House of Arkham
by Pandora's Teapot
Summary: I was kinda disappointed with Batman Beyond and a lot of the 'after Bruce Wayne' story lines so I had a go at my own. Some original characters (Thorne & Jay-Jay/Poppet) but lots of the favourites too. Just a story based on characters & stories I love, & how I'd have liked to see the Batman legacy continued with all the carnage Batsy deserves! Features Nightwing & Oracle! Enjoy! :-)
1. Chapter 1

**THE HOUSE OF ARKHAM**

By Pandora.

PROLOGUE

"There's only one thing you need to know, Poppet," he said, tightening his grasp on the little girl perched upon his knee.

"What's that Daddy?" she asked in a bell-like voice. He grinned.

"If you have to explain the joke, it ain't funny."

CHAPTER ONE

It was the night of the Gotham City Lifetime Achievement Ball, the cream of the city's elite had swarmed together and the night was alive with buzzing chatter and the smell of champagne. Most had come to pay respects to the guest of honour, Bruce Wayne, Gotham's largest single charity donor. He had aged gracefully, still debonair even beside the handsome Richard Grayson, previously his young ward now all grown up and filling his benefactor's impressive shoes in the nearby city of Bludhaven. With them had come Barbara Gordon, beautiful and elegant as ever despite being confined to a wheelchair, and Bruce's adopted son, Timothy Drake.

It was a night for the glam and pampered aristocrats of Gotham, much to the dismay of young Thorne Isely. This was a world he had not been born into, his presence was entirely owing to the fact that his mother had left him her research notes, laboratory and millions of dollars in cash. Thorne had bought the botanical sciences department of Gotham University and, after much dispute and public outrage, named it Isely Gardens. Tonight, he would bestow a certificate of appreciation to Bruce Wayne and Wayne Enterprises for the generous funding provided. Thorne did not begrudge the pomp of the ball, because Bruce Wayne had been one of the few who supported the naming of the labs after his infamous mother. Dick Grayson approached Thorne casually. He couldn't help but notice the glint of vigilant curiousity in the eyes of Grayson. Something about it set his entire being into ringing alarms.

"Dr Isely, right?" Grayson asked, extending his hand. Thorne cautiously took it and nodded with a polite smile. Grayson shook twice heartily before drawing away his hand.

"Name's Grayson, Dick Grayson. How astounding!" he remarked in amazement. Thorne noted the intense way Dick stared at him. It made him uncomfortable and somewhat irritated. He knew enough about Dick Grayson to regard him with contempt. Thorne had never admired the orphan acrobat turned wealthy ward of Bruce Wayne like most of Gotham City did. All Thorne saw was a common class brat with an adopted blue-blood attitude problem.

"What's so astounding, Mr Grayson?" Thorne asked smoothly, narrowing his eyes to match the unwavering gaze of Grayson. He saw Dick flinch slightly, as though some kind of deeper, darker recognition had occurred to him.

"I...I'm sorry Dr Isely, for a second there...well you reminded me of an old Gotham official I once knew. Funny, I was about to remark that you looked so much like the late Dr Isely, if only you had her red hair," he exclaimed. Thorne felt a pang of panic at Grayson's comment and one of hurt, his mother's death was still raw to him. But he was not thrown enough to give Grayson what he hunted for, Gotham City had been pestering him for years as to who his father had been. Thorne would never tell.

"She was my mother after all, Mr Grayson," he said proudly, "and I thank you for your remark, which I take humbly as a compliment."

Thorne suddenly realised that another person stood near to them, a nosy woman with silver hair wound in a cone atop her head and fur draped greedily around her shoulders. Like most aristocrats did, she had taken the liberty of inviting herself into the conversation. Thorne felt the piercing stare of her eyes on his face.

"Mother? Ha! Pamela Isely was incapable of any natural conception. She was an abomination of nature," the woman spat. Thorne clenched his fists, anger rising in him with fierce speed. He felt for a moment that he might even raise his hand to this pompous woman in violence, this woman who dared to insult his beloved mother. How dare she! A hand fell on his shoulder. He looked to his right, it was Bruce Wayne.

"Dr Isely was a pioneer of her field, madam, whatever social faults she may have had. She will be remembered for her devotion to her science and the invaluable discoveries she made, not to mention her generousity in feeding Gotham during the No Man's Land," he informed in that low, suave tone he was famous for, "and evidently, a son she certainly has."

The woman glanced from Thorne to Bruce and back to Thorne quickly, where her stare lingered hatefully for a moment, before turning up her nose and storming away. Thorne turned to Bruce and extended his hand warmly, which Mr Wayne accepted keenly.

"Thank you, Mr Wayne, it is no easy task being the son of such a controversial figure as Pamela Isely, and tonight of all nights!" Thorne jested, the relief evident in his voice. Bruce smiled with a subtle nod of his head, still shaking Thorne's hand. The resemblance was truly remarkable, Bruce thought with a sad sigh, no wonder Dick had recoiled when Thorne gave that same dignified look with the same squared jaw-line. Thorne was as handsome and proud as his father had been.

"Think nothing of it Thorne. Your mother paid her debt to society during the No Man's Land, and well into the years beyond, her harvests and plant toxins have saved thousands upon thousands of lives. You ought to be proud, young man."

"I am," Thorne answered with certainty, "don't doubt it, I am."

That was when he saw her. The doors swung open and she stood there, draped in white satin with black lace trimming and pale purple ribbon in her hair, like a creature from another realm. Her milky white skin was flawless, a frame of shortly cropped golden curls framing her face and illuminating the most untamed eyes of amber green Thorne had ever seen. Her steps were subtle, but dramatic, as she waltzed towards them. He was in awe, completely aware that the whole room stared with dropped jaws, gasps turning to whispers of shock. Bruce Wayne stepped forward, a frown tainting his still handsome face. Dick Grayson held tightly to Barbara's shoulders - Barbara Gordon, who looked as though she might leap from her chair and walk again from sheer fury. Tim Drake simply turned away, pale and slightly embarrassed. Who was this young lady who had so horrified them all, who everyone seemed to know something about that Thorne had missed?

"Miss Quinzel, I didn't expect to see you in Gotham again," Bruce stated, reaching out a hand to her. The young lady took it and smiled, something that provoked a further gasp from those gathered around. Her eyes shot daggers suddenly. She was no stranger to this, it seemed, she would not have their judgement. Bruce was cautious and calculative as he placed a single kiss on her hand.

"Mr Wayne, how lovely to see you again," she chimed in a voice that was like rain on a pond in summertime, "I have come to see my father before he dies. Would any here in Gotham begrudge me that? Surely it is an event long awaited for!" she asked, looking around her. Murmurs and whispers met her, but no one dared protest. Her eyes fell back on Bruce Wayne. He locked gaze with her and nodded.

"No, Miss Quinzel, I don't think any would begrudge you that right."

As Bruce Wayne led the mysterious Miss Quinzel away, Thorne turned to Dick Grayson, still silently consoling Barbara. He needed to know.

"Mr Grayson, who is she?" Thorne asked. Dick Grayson looked into Thorne's eyes. Bruce had given him strict instructions that Thorne and Quinzel were never to meet, though as usual he had been scarce on the details as to why. Psychologically, Bruce had been certain that Thorne Isely was no threat to society, following his mother's obsession only as far as her science. Quinzel had been another matter, and Dick had enough experience to fill in the gaps left by his mentor – evil begets evil, but also leads the good astray. He sighed. Curiousity would only prompt Thorne Isely to pursue her for answers.

"She is Jay-Jayay Poppet Quinzel, the daughter of Harleen Quinzel," Dick said in a low voice. His eyes stayed locked on Thorne, watching the thoughts develop, the coin drop.

"Harley Quinn's daughter, the daughter of my mother's dearest friend...the daughter of..."

"The Joker," Dick finished.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

"What was she doing there, Bruce?" Barbara demanded, tears streaming down her face. Neither Bruce nor Dick could look her in the eye. They had both known that Jay-Jayay Quinzel was back in Gotham, but no one expected her at the Ball. She did, however, have a good reason.

"Barbara, Jay-Jay has never given any definitive indication that she will follow in the footsteps of either parent. She came last night because the Commissioner and Mayor invited her personally. A sign of peace and good will in Gotham after the Joker years," Bruce explained as gently as he could. Her expression said it all.

"What? They invited her?" Barbara gasped, clutching her chair, "they invited the daughter of the monster who killed Sarah Gordon, tortured my father, did this to me?!"

Dick tried to hold her, but she would have none of it. She shrugged him off and pushed herself towards the entrance of the Batcave. She stopped and took a deep breath before turning to look at them. Her eyes were awash with tears and pain.

"My father and I have worked right by your side for years, we were there long before Batman was. Call it emotion if you want to, Bruce," she said in a calmer voice, "even call it trauma. But mark my words: with such a questionable psychological profile, I guarantee that girl is the spitting image of her father, it's only a matter of time before she gives you that definitive indication. You, above all, should see that." And with that, she turned and disappeared out of the cave.

Bruce – no, Batman…the jovial expressions of the night had been replaced by that more familiar stone countenance - sighed, slumping back in his chair. He was too old for this. Even Dick was tiring. And Tim? Seeing the Joker's daughter had brought back terrible memories and opened deep, deep wounds. Dick sat in the seat beside his old mentor.

"She knows who you are, doesn't she?" he asked. Bruce looked up at him, unaware that the honey coated tone in Quinzel's greeting had been that obvious. Or perhaps he had failed to give Dick credit for how much he, as Nightwing, had honed the skills taught to him years ago as Robin. His instincts were sharp, and the subtle tease in Jay-Jay's words had been more than any amount of cryptic information from Batman would have given him. Yes, Jay-Jay Quinzel knew the identity of Batman, and in all likelihood, of Nightwing, Batgirl, and Robin too. Only Oracle – Barbara – remained in obscurity. Dick laughed half- heartedly, his head falling to his hands.

"The Joker found out toward the end. He passed the knowledge on to his daughter. His heir," Bruce explained. Dick squeezed his chin, shaking his head in disbelief. Bruce was, as always, still and very collected.

"Is Barbara right? Is she like the Joker? Is that why you want me keeping Poison Ivy's boy away from her?" Dick asked. Bruce thought about it for a moment, despite having already thought about it thoroughly the first time he had convinced Jay-Jay to leave Gotham City with her dying mother.

"Jay-Jay Quinzel is a strong woman, ruthless for one so young. But I do not believe she is a criminal. She visits the Joker at Arkham from time to time, but she was always Harleen's daughter first," Bruce reasoned, "she has her…eccentricities…and some petty incidents on her juvenile record, but nothing suggestive of a criminal psychology. As for Thorne Isely, he's a good man, but…"

"But?" Dick prompted. Bruce glanced at him with piercing blue eyes that cautioned him not to question his answer further once he had given it.

"Genetics. Jay-Jay Quinzel at worst might be a fan to a flame."

There it was again, Thorne Isely's mysterious paternity. Dick scratched his head, pondering. He understood Bruce's caution to keep the young botanist sheltered from more reactive personalities like Jay-Jay Quinzel, but he remained uncomfortable with this girl knowing their identities. This girl who just happened to be the daughter of Gotham's most notorious anarchist, not to mention that she was on an inevitable collision course with the son of her mother's best friend, the super villainess Poison Ivy with a father kept so secret it had to be bad. Bruce hauled himself slowly to his feet and began to head in the same direction as Barbara. But just before he disappeared, Dick called out to him. It had been something he had wanted to know since seeing Dr Isely at the Ball.

"Thorne Isely. Is he really Ivy's son? I mean, how could he be?" Dick asked, "what that woman said was right, we know Ivy couldn't conceive because of the intensity of her mutation. She was as much plant tissue as she was animal."

"Pamela Isely was a better scientist than anyone ever knew, even us," Bruce explained sombrely, "true, she couldn't conceive naturally, but no one ever said she did. As far as I have been able to piece together, Ivy learnt to somehow genetically alter DNA so that it was compatible with her tissue, compatible enough to reproduce. She used her tissue and the tissue of a mate, artificially inseminated herself, and Thorne was conceived," Bruce explained. Dick shuffled anxiously, still not satisfied.

"What mate? Who is his father?" Dick pressed, the intensity of his eyes striking Bruce hard. So, Bruce thought to himself knowingly, Dick had not ended his doomed affair with Ivy after all. And now he wondered about Thorne's paternity. Needlessly. Bruce knew he had to tell Dick, if only to erase any doubt in his mind if not more nobly to share critical information with the man he had mentored, trained, and trusted as his partner in the work for so many years. But he had never shared more with Dick than crucially necessary, a flaw in himself that he considered both necessary and a painful guilt that often fostered a deeper regret than he could stomach. Not this time. This was crucial, and Bruce knew he was too old to guarantee his ability to reign in the kind of trouble that had consumed so much of his life anymore. That would be the burden of Nightwing now. Dick needed to know everything.

"Harvey Dent," Bruce answered sincerely, a shadow passing over his face, "both sides."

Dick, though relieved not to hear his own name, almost choked in shock.

"Harvey Two Face? Bruce, Harvey Two Face?!" he gasped, "what were these nuts doing? Breeding a perfected criminal generation to replace them? We're talking about a girl cut from two levels of insanity, who shares blood with the Joker and Harley Quinn, and a boy who is the mutant spawn of Poison Ivy and Harvey Two Face! Anyone else I should know about?"

Bruce thought about telling Dick of his own children he had hidden safely out of harm's way, but it couldn't be risked. Even now, the Joker was an adversary not to be easily forgotten. He lay dying in Arkham, but Bruce never truly believed he would go out without a fight.

"That's all. Jonathon Crane had students, as does Edward Nigma still, but that's it. The rest are dead and gone" he concluded. Without another word, Bruce left the cave, leaving his protégé alone. There was a stillness in the cave, a hollow airiness as the drafts circulated in and out of the immense caverns. It was always dark down here, only the lights of the computers and equipment forever blinking and glowing in the blackness. The dim glow of security screens cast monitoring cells of interest at Arkham Asylum and Blackgate Prison cast the most light of all, and it was here that Nightwing's eyes lingered. The Joker's cell was dark, no movement or signs of life save for one bleach-white hand with its long spindly fingers and blackened nails resting motionless in the single stream of light that penetrated the cell. Even now, it was unnerving and provoked a flood of 'what-if's' in his mind. Dick Grayson had known Bruce Wayne for a very long time. He had worked with and for the Batman with the same conviction, knowing his mind and learning his methods. As he stood alone in the Batcave, Dick knew that something wasn't right. Bruce was hiding something about all this. He was going to find out what. Maybe that is what Bruce intended by leaving him alone here. Sitting at the computer, Dick slowly typed in the letters he had typed so often: J-O-K-E-R.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

_KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!_

"Who's there?"

"It's me."

"Harley?!"

"No Daddy, it's me."

"Poppet?"

"Hello Daddy…"

"Poppet!"

Arkham Asylum was a dank, dark place. Jay-Jay hated to see her father held here, nursing his torment and kept from his darling daughter while he rotted and died. She clutched at the iron bars that covered the tiny gap in the bullet proof plastic door. The guard flipped his thumb against his security card impatiently beside her.

"Open the door, I want to see my father," Jay-Jay demanded. The guard did as he was told. No one was allowed entry to the Joker's cell save for Jay-Jay Quinzel. She had been routinely screened prior to entering the maximum security wing. It was all for nothing. Jay-Jay knew – as all of Arkham knew – that this was her father's kingdom and almost everyone here – unofficially, whether they liked it or not - served him alone.

"There you go, missy. Push the buzzer for assistance and when you're done, same as always," said the guard. Jay-Jay smiled. Stupid man, but loveable. He'd make a great henchman, she was sure. Jay-Jay entered the darkness slowly. As her eyes adjusted, she could see what he had scrawled in chalk on the stone walls of his cell: pictures of happy clowns with broad smiles, exploding buses and different kinds of knives. And one picture that had been there for years, but occassionally had the colours touched up. It was a picture of a tall lanky clown man dressed in purple, with a little harlequin woman holding onto his sleeve with one hand and a gun in the other. To the other side of the clown man stood a small child with golden blonde curls, her hand snuggly tucked into his. Underneath he had written in messy scribble: _A smile each day keeps the doctors away, but not the Batman_.

"Daddy, I've brought you some things," she said, carefully looking for him in the dark. Being his daughter in no way made her feel safe with him. She understood her father well…well enough not to take her eyes off him for a second. He was curled up on the end of his cot, hiding in the shadows with a small box on his lap. The Harlequin Box. He had let her play with it as a child, but kept it hidden to himself after Harley had died.

"Do you remember, Poppet, how you laughed when the Jack-In-The Box popped out?" he asked. Jay-Jay slowly moved towards him, sliding onto the bunk to sit with her father. She let her shoulder touch his, but was careful not to use her hands.

"Yes Daddy, I do. And I remember the music it made," she replied. The Joker giggled and took her hand. He placed it on the key and motioned for Jay-Jay to wind it up. She did so and they giggled together as the music began to tinkle. Then, as it peaked, the lid sprung open and a clown faced jester sprung out, bobbing up and down carelessly until the Joker forced him back inside, snickering.

"What did you bring me, pet?" he asked her. Jay-Jay hauled a wicker basket onto his cot and pulled the cloth from it. She rummaged around inside, his eager face waiting with more patience than the Joker had ever had before.

"Well, for starters, I got the usual essentials: Odd socks made of cotton, hair grease, clippings from this month's papers, magazines, and forensice psychology journals that relate to you, and a fresh flower to pin on your uniform," Jay-Jay listed as she handed each item to her greedy father. He tucked them away under his bed, except for the flower which he pinned on immediately.

"What else, Poppet, what else?" he asked eagerly. She smiled, happy to see her father so lively. She knew that this place was miserable, even for him. Once he had enjoyed it, because it meant time with her mother that he would otherwise have to find excuses for and abuse her during in order to avoid accusations of actually caring. But Harley was gone now. They were all gone, except for him. It was lonesome, he didn't care to escape and battle the Batman anymore. Batman was too old for their romps now, just like him.

"Some treats, Daddy. Here. A box of your favourite cigars, another Laurel & Hardy movie for you to watch in the theatre, and something very special," she said enthusiastically, reaching deep into the basket, "this!"

Jay-Jay handed the Joker an old miniature record player, the kind you wound up to make it work. The Joker's eyes were wide with excitement. Jay-Jay placed some old vinyl records on his lap. He smiled, just staring at the gifts his daughter had brought him.

"Jay-Jay my girl, you look after your dear ol' Dad well. Say, did I ever tell you how you got your name? It stands for Joker Junior, you know. That bird-brained boy blunder never appreciated it when Harley and I tried to adopt him into our merry brood…some people just don't get the joke, eh Poppet?"

Or being tortured to near insanity, Jay-Jay thought to herself with a smile. She watched as her father lit up a cigar and wedged it between his smiling lips. He winked at her, grinning widely with the cigar held between his teeth comically. Jay-Jay laughed softly, she had always been entertained by her father. He patted her hand quickly and blew out a puff of rich smelling smoke. Jay-Jay breathed it in.

"Your mother hated my cigars," he reminisced, "always telling me to give it away."

Jay-Jay simply nodded, but remained silent. The Joker hated interruptions when he wanted to talk, even from his own daughter. She had suffered many cruel blows as a child for speaking out of turn. But she loved him more than ever, just like her mother had. The difference between her and Harley was that one day Jay-Jay hit him back, harder than Harley Quinn ever would have dared to. He never touched her again, simply cackled with laughter and pat her on the head, chuckling "that's my girl" between hysterics.

"Now Poppet, what's the scoop in old Gotham? I hear it's terribly dull these days," he sulked sarcastically, "nobody has any fun anymore! Hahahahaha!"

Jay-Jay smiled. She had always admired her father's love of his work. Every evening he would puff on his cigar and tell her of his latest adventures with the Batman. Those stories thrilled her, she had always longed to see it for herself, but her father forbade it. It was the only thing he ever agreed on with Aunt Red when she came to visit.

"I went to the Ball last night Daddy, just like you wanted," Jay-Jay told him, "Bruce Wayne was there." The Joker paused, his face darkening slightly. His smile began to lift and a malicious sparkle danced in his eyes. He turned slowly to look at his daughter.

"Really?" he hissed, "and how is my old friend?"


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Dick Grayson stormed into the study of Bruce Wayne, slamming a sheet of paper on the desk before him. Bruce looked up, a little surprised, until he looked at the paper.

"Even now, years after I went out on my own, you're still not telling me everything," he stressed, "what the hell is this, Bruce?"

The brooding billionaire took a sip of his coffee, his eyes still staring at the information printed from his private files on the cave computer. He had hoped Dick would go looking. It was easier than telling him everything outright.

"It is what it says it is," Bruce said, handing the paper back to Dick, "details on the important points, nothing I didn't tell you in the cave."

Dick shook his head in frustration, screwing the paper up in his fist and tossing it to the floor. It was not the information that angered him, it was that Bruce had kept it from him all these years. He should've known about this when Batman did! But that was always the way with Bruce, he had learnt. Information was a precious treasure he kept under tighter guard than his billions of dollars.

"I'm on your side, Bruce," Dick reminded him firmly, "and I'm just as good as you ever were. Remember that old man."

With that, Dick stormed out of his office. Bruce sighed and turned his eyes to the screwed up file notes. How he had hoped and prayed that file would stay closed after Dent escaped from Arkham. But as always, the Joker had come back. He couldn't settle like the others, he just had to have it out one last time, had to learn who was behind the mask and cape, had to wind up back in Arkham to wait out his life and bide his time until the end…the final curtain call. Things were never so simple with the Joker.

BATFILE # J15115R

REPORT RE: Disappearance Of Harley Quinn.

My worst fears for Dr. Harleen Quinzel are being realized. It has been four months since the Joker's sidekick Harley Quinn was last seen and as yet, no trace of Quinzel has been found. That the Joker has finally murdered her seems beyond doubt. The Joker has been taken into custody but refuses to speak of Harley Quinn or her where-abouts. However, while interrogating the Joker at Arkham Asylum, Harvey 'Two-Face' Dent made a remark about Quinn's involvement with 'Ivy's experiments' upon which the Joker erupted into a fit of violence toward Dent. When questioned, Dent said only that Poison Ivy had paid him for a sample of his hair – notably from both sides of his countenance – for an unknown cause and that Harley Quinn had been with her. He maintained no knowledge of why the Joker responded with such turbulence. Further investigation required.

REPORT RE: Alleged Poison Ivy Experiments.

Harley Quinn resides with Pamela Isely aka Poison Ivy and is expecting. One can only assume the child is sired by the Joker. Past experience tells me that the Joker is usually moved to rage by the friendship between Quinn and Ivy, but his response to Harvey Dent's allusion to their present companionship suggests that this time the Joker intends for Quinn to be in Isely's care. Further investigation required.

FURTHER NOTES RE: Alleged Poison Ivy Experiments.

Harley Quinn is confirmed with child by the Joker. More alarming, however, is that Pamela Isely's usual disdain for humanity has been somewhat alleviated by her only companion's impending motherhood. Isely has concocted a means of genetic alteration allowing her to conceive artificially. It appears that she has chosen both sides of Harvey Dent to be the DNA father of her child. Dent appears oblivious to his role in this scheme.

REPORT RE: The Joker‟s Escape From Arkham Asylum. (June).

Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy have been missing for one month and The Joker has escaped from Arkham Asylum, presumably headed towards them. There is no doubt in my mind that the condition of both Quinn and Ivy is no accident. I believe that while partly inevitable where Quinn is concerned, there is method behind the simultaneous self-experimentation being conducted by Poison Ivy. Usually opposed to the prospect of motherhood, Isely appears to have warmed to the idea of a genetically engineered match to the Joker's heir. This is likely in part due to her sheer competitive disdain for him. Harvey Dent remains at Arkham Asylum, but has been made aware of the situation by the Joker. He appears amused by, but uninterested in having any part in, the Joker's plan, expressing no ill will towards him or Isely.

I do not know where they are. I do not know what I could possibly do if I did. Gotham's four most dangerous, violent criminals are mixing their gene pools and there is nothing I can do to stop them.

REPORT RE: The Joker's Heir.

Harvey Dent received a letter from Pamela Isely. Their son has been born healthy and strong. The photograph included shows a handsome boy of her fair countenance, but Dent's dark hair. He was moved to tears. Isely also included news regarding Quinn's child. The Joker's heir is female. Their location is still unknown. Further investigation required.

REPORT RE: Harvey Dent's Escape From Arkham Asylum.

It has been exactly two years to the day since any news from Isely, Quinn, or the Joker has reached Arkham. Harvey Dent was up for parole today. Last night he received correspondence from Isely. The letter was burnt immediately. I suspected that something was wrong.

Dent was denied parole. It mattered little, within the hour he was broken out of Arkham Asylum by the Joker. The casualties were heavy. Before they retreated, I was able to fit both Dent and the Joker with hidden transmitters. I will find them.

FURTHER NOTES RE: Harvey Dent's Escape From Arkham Asylum.

They're gone. All of them. My transmitters were found discarded at the Joker's previous lair, apparently shed with his and Dent's clothing. They were cautious and certain that I would not find them. Every known hide out has been swept, no henchmen have been hired by the Joker, Dent, Isely, or Quinn for months. The Stacked Deck Club has been taken over by mobsters, indicating that neither the Joker nor Dent have been present for some time.

Nothing more can be done. It is my hope that perhaps the four will disappear quietly somewhere into obscurity, given the circumstances. While I consider that this could be possible for Harvey or even Ivy, I doubt either Quinn or the Joker to have the same capacity for responsibility as their counterparts. Regardless, the names Isely, Quinzel, and Dent will be put on high alert, along with all known alias identities used, particularly by the Joker.

I do not believe that the Joker will keep himself secret from me for long. He knows too much to fade into obscurity so easily. Time will tell.

FILE CLOSED.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Thorne couldn't help but stare as his car passed the gates of Arkham Asylum. His beautiful mother had been a prisoner here so many times. No one had ever really understood her. She had been Thorne's idol all of his life and there was no one he wanted to be like more than Poison Ivy. But she had always stroked his dark hair and smiled gently, remarking about how much he looked like his father. Thorne thought of his father, Harvey Dent, who he had barely known in person. The letters came monthly, sometimes more, but Thorne had only seen Dent a handful of times and almost always from a distance. Ivy had tried to explain how hard it was for Harvey to be seen by his own son, and Thorne only realized why the day he had first read old news reports and seen the images of Harvey Two-Face.

But today, as Arkham drifted by, Thorne thought of something new. He thought about the Joker. He was still in there, somewhere. Locked away in a dark cell and surrounded by inmates of a lesser brand of insanity than himself. Thorne knew about as much as anyone else from Gotham when it came to the Joker, with one exception. His mother had warned him never, ever to get tangled up in that particular mess. The Joker, in her eyes, was nothing but trouble.

As the asylum shrunk into the distance, Thorne let his mind conjure images from the Ball. He had watched her all night, too terrified to speak with her. She was tall and thin, like the Joker had been, but not so exaggerated. Something about her frame was smaller, lighter, like Harley Quinn. Her face was a porcelain rendition of her mother, sweet and cheerful. Until she smiled. Then her face was eerily reminiscent of her father. She had his eyes too, amber green, almost yellow. Formidable, beautiful, and deeply mystifying, Jay-Jay Poppet Quinzel was like something out of legend, something distant he couldn't quite reach or identify, but that he knew he wanted. Thorne had been bewitched. But she didn't even notice him. How could she? Bruce Wayne barely turned his attention from her, much to Thorne's agitation. Not to mention that annoying Dick Grayson. In the end, Thorne had lost sight of her, only to realize she had left. He wondered, looking back at Arkham, if she was there. With him, her father…the Joker.

Thorne sighed deeply. Why did it matter? So Jay-Jay was the daughter of his mother's only real friend. So what? So she, like him, was the offspring of notorious criminals, born with genius level IQ, and socially ostracized by the same people who had misunderstood their parents. So what? So what…? So everything, Thorne thought to himself. He had never felt understood by anyone save for his mother. To be recognized in Gotham as a botanist, to be accepted by the people as a member of their society, had been no easy task. It hadn't even been a total achievement. And no one even knew who his father was! Poor Jay-Jay, everyone knew who both her parents were. Surely she would understand him, his loneliness and isolation, she had to. Thorne was decided. He would find Jay-Jay Quinzel and introduce himself to her if he had to knock on every door in the city. He would find her, and...and...well he hadn't thought about what he'd do once he found her. It didn't matter. He just had to speak to her, let her know there was another child of Gotham's most wanted clinging to his right to exist in this wretched city.

The car pulled into a garage and Thorne loosened his seat belt. He thanked the driver and pushed open the door to the stairwell. Twenty two steps to his lab, he counted them every day with a strange sense of obsession and thoughts of Harvey Two-Face. He stepped into his lab and, in silence, watered the rose bush on his desk. The one with the deeply scored coin hidden in the pot.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

The Joker didn't laugh so much anymore. It was really more of a mocking chuckle if anything. It was no wonder that the Arkham staff came running when he burst into hysteric peals of laughter after his daughter had left. Six guards, all heavily armed, and two doctors with tranquiliser syringes and a strait jacket in tow rushing down the cold halls and gathering outside his cell door. How predictable. Some things never changed, certainly not Arkham Asylum. He knew they'd never learn, they were too afraid to outsmart him.

"Dent's boy! Hahaha! Can you imagine?" the Joker cackled, tears streaming down his pasty white face and lingering on his vicious smile, "poor pretty Poison, wouldn't she just die if she weren't already dead!"

The Arkham doctors exchanged confused glances. The superior of them shrugged it off, the Jokers insane rants would have to wait. For now, their priority was to sedate and neutralize his madness as quickly as possible, and with as few casualties as possible. It was never so simple with the Joker. Ever. As the doctor punched in the security code on his auto-sealed door, the guards hurried in and routinely beat the laughing man to the ground, twisting his long arms behind his back and forcing him onto his knees. The Joker continued to laugh.

"Okay, let's take it nice and easy now," the doctor said, cautiously stepping towards him with a syringe in her hand, "easy Mister Joker, easy."

His eyes sprung open, the laughter stopped. He just watched her as she edged closer and pushed the stick slowly into his neck. Her eyes darted back and forth from the needle to his yellow eyes nervously, he just stared at her with a frightening grin on his face. The tranquiliser was administered and she hastily pulled the needle from him, stepping backwards quickly.

"You know what Doc," the Joker said in a cheerful voice, "you remind me of someone I once knew...but not quite."

She gasped softly, but swallowed it quickly behind pursed lips. She nodded to the guards and they roughly pulled the Jokers arms out straight beside him. The other doctor handed her the strait jacket, which she swiftly passed on to the nearest guard. And that was it. With only a flash of his menacing smile, the Joker winked at the guard holding his right arm. In a flash, he was loose and had swept up the strait jacket before lunging at the doctor and wrapping it around her. She gasped, a small scream escaping her before she realised she couldn't breathe. The Joker pulled the spare syringe from her coat pocket and pressed it into her neck. He glanced at the guards, then at the other doctor.

"Why thank you so much for your assistance boys," he giggled, "I think we'll be quite alright now, if you please."

Without a word, the six guards and the doctor scuffled out of his cell, their grim faces telling a tale of bitter treachery, because the Joker owned this asylum and anyone who dared set foot inside it. When they had gone, the Joker let his grasp on the doctor loosen and pushed her to the ground. She was drowsy from the tranquiliser, but still lucid enough to be afraid.

"Like I said Doc, you remind me of someone I once knew," he hissed, smiling broadly as he leant down to look her straight in the eye, "but not quite."

Her eyes widened as he pulled a Sinatra record from its case, along with a razor blade that had been carefully hidden in behind a thin lead plate at the centre of the vinyl record. His eyebrows lifted suddenly as he looked at it and gave a quick, airy laugh. Snatching the blade into his hand, he pressed it against the doctors throat, delighted by the soft whimpers that now accompanied her wide eyes.

"She's a good girl, my Poppet, everything her daddy could hope for," the Joker whispered, leaning a little closer, "did you call me Mister Joker? I prefer Mister J."

* * *

The night was warm and still, unusual for Gotham City, but Dick didn't mind. He sat perched on the ledge of his penthouse apartment, enjoying the glow of a city that had once been his. He had his own town to protect now, without Batman. Dick sighed, slightly guilty for that thought. Bruce had been good to him, and to Barbara. He had suffered more than just the death of his parents, he had suffered failure. Dick knew, as did Barbara and her father, that it had not been Batman's fault when the Joker killed Sarah Gordon, or when he put a bullet in Barbara's spine. Or when he had murdered Jason Todd, Dick's first replacement as Robin, and tortured young Tim Drake, Robin number three. Dick had always counted himself lucky to have never ended up on the list of those brutalised by the Joker to get at Batman. But Bruce had never let it go, and never let anyone in. Not completely. Information was Batman's best defence, against his pain and his enemies alike. He always kept something to himself, even when it came to the Justice League. No matter what Dick had done, it was never enough to prove himself worthy of sharing in the Batman's inner thoughts. It had driven him mad so many times, it had even eventually driven him out of Gotham City. What only he and Bruce knew, though, was that it had once driven him deep into the arms of Poison Ivy too. His eyes were caught by the shades of green that seemed so unreal on Barbara's ferns. Dick smirked at the irony. His two great loves, and they were both red, only Barbara had blue eyes while Ivy's had been green. Both strong, fiercely independent women and both more than capable of looking after themselves, only, Ivy had been one of the bad guys.

"I'm sorry," Dick whispered as he thought of her, the breath of his words seeming to float on the night air, "if I ever made you think it was only for Batman, I'm sorry."

"What have you done now, Grayson?" came a voice from behind him. Dick spun around. It was Barbara, sitting in that monstrous chair, the light from the living room glowing around her like a halo. She was the best of them all now, so strong and wise that she barely had time to be her sweet, cheerful self anymore. He felt guilty, he always felt guilty. She looked concerned, but smiled at him despite it. Dick couldn't help but smile back. He picked a rose from her garden and pushed it behind her ear.

"Nothing Babs, just apologising for souls I couldn't save," Dick promised her. Barbara smiled sadly and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed his cheek gently before wiping off the pink lipstick she had left behind.

"You can't save everyone Dick. No one can."

* * *

Damn that infernal Bruce Wayne, Jay-Jay thought as she slammed her fist down on the coffee table. Now she knew why he had desperately steered her away from the botanist all night. True, her interest was initially professional, her father absolutely insisted on her getting to know all of Gotham's young natural scientists for reasons he simply refused to share with her. But her interests changed when she saw this one. He was a handsome young man, shy but dignified, with dark hair and bright green eyes.

"Beautiful," Jay-Jay thought out loud. She bit down on her bottom lip. Now she knew, indeed. As soon as she had mentioned his name – Dr Thorne Isley – the Jokers interest was seized. Her father had been disappointed that she hadn't spoken with him until Jay-Jay had mentioned how beautiful he was. Then the Joker had smiled, even laughed a little, and gestured for her to lean closer. He had told her then who Thorne Isely really was. Jay-Jay ran her fingers through her hair. Was she so intriguing herself? Was that why everyone in Gotham trembled in her presence or sneered at her very name? She felt awe in her soul when she thought that this beautiful creature was the son of Poison Ivy and Harvey Two Face. Was that how everyone felt about her? And surely, that is why the Batman insisted on keeping her away from him! Something had to be done about Bruce Wayne and his band of poorly costumed warriors.

Jay-Jay sighed, her eyes falling to the phone directory on the end of the table. Doctor Isely wouldn't be hard to find. Hell, she knew he'd be at the university every day. But she wondered if talking to Thorne would really help her. Her father certainly seemed itching to know more about him, but she knew he always had plans of his own. What could he possibly offer her that she didn't know already? Jay-Jay didn't need Thorne Isely! She was the daughter of the Joker!

"Don't need him one bit," she whispered to herself, her fingers pulling the phone directory closer to herself, "just like Daddy didn't need Harley Quinn."

Jay-Jay leafed through it slowly, thoughts of her mother assaulting her mind. Harley Quinn. She had been the Joker's only peace, the loving arms he could crawl into after a rough day, the soft flesh he could cut into when sex just wasn't enough. They had been the same, in a world of people who hated them, they had been the same.

"Perhaps, Doctor Isely," Jay-Jay mused, "you are the same as me."

* * *

Beautiful apartment, huge rooms, all kept immaculately clean. Thorne hated his life. He thought this as he lay in the crisp folds of his sheets staring at the roof above his enormously empty room. He'd searched everywhere, asked everyone. No one wanted to know or talk about Jay-Jay Quinzel. He felt close to tears tonight, a sense of deep disappointment overwhelming him as hope steadily flickered out.

"I'll be alone forever," Thorne choked softly, "is that what you wanted for me? To be like you?"

He didn't expect an answer. Sometimes it would come, other times it was simply silence. It seemed like one of the silent moments now, when he needed it the most. No wonder his father had gone insane. Thorne knew it would do the same to him.

"What's the point in being sane if you're alone? Go on, lose your mind and then you'll never be alone," it said, surprising Thorne, "you'll have me."

Thorne felt his flesh tingle head to toe, but only on the left side of his body. He let his head roll to the side so that he could peer into the mirror. It stared back at him, half of his face covered in shadow, the green eye glowing in the dark. Thorne brushed his cheek with his fingers. Nothing. The same flesh as always. But his father had told him once before that it started in the soul. Then, it would find a way to consume your flesh too.

"I don't want you," Thorne answered at last. He heard the deep laugh inside himself, felt the rage rising up into his throat. It wound tight there, Thorne couldn't breathe! He clawed at his throat, gasping desperately for air. It just laughed, this thing within him, it just laughed!

"Then get what you want boy," it growled at him, still laughing, "and don't be a weakling like your daddy. Or you'll die like he did."

It let go, and Thorne sucked in the air greedily, his hands clutching his throat. Never had it been so violent with him. Somewhere deep down inside he could hear the echo of its laughter. His laughter. The sound was interrupted when the phone rang, its shrill tone piercing the night. Thorne ignored it for a second, the sweat gleaming on his still body as he just listened. Finally, he reached over and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Dr Isely?" came a soft, bell-like voice. Thorne wiped the sweat from his face.

"Yes..." he replied half-heartedly, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment, trying to gather his senses and regain the control it had taken from him again.

"Dr Isely, forgive the late hour," the voice apologised sweetly, "my name is Jay-Jay Quinzel, I've been trying to get in contact since the night of the Ball, without much luck up until now, I'm afraid."

Thorne stopped breathing for a moment. He switched on his desk lamp, casting another deep shadow over one side of his face. He smiled at the reflection in the mirror and it smirked back.

"Yes, Miss Quinzel, of course. How can I be of service?"


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

(_Twenty years ago, three years after the escape of Harvey Dent..._)

She watched him for hours. The Joker was bent over a desk, his back dangerously arched, scribbling furiously at some great thought he had had. A small desk lamp lit his pages, he leant close to them to see. How amazing, she thought, that he still smiled slightly even when no one else was around. He was up to something, of that much she was certain, but what? The Joker stopped writing suddenly. He sighed deeply, his head drooping a little. Suddenly he looked up, looked right at her. Bastard, how did he always do that?

"Come on out pretty Poison," he said, a grimness to his expression, "tell me what you think this brilliant plan."

Ivy was taken aback. The Joker? Being nice to her? Now she knew something was definitely up. She stepped out of the shadows and lightly glided over to him, her green night gown swishing at her feet. Ivy folded her arms and scowled at him. Of course, he just smiled. Ivy looked at him closely, a little shocked by the deeper than usual gauntness of his face.

"Are you okay laughing man?" she asked, her voice tainted with curious concern. He frowned a little and turned away from her. Typical, Ivy thought, god forbid anyone care about the Joker, right? She rested her hand on his shoulder, a bold move, but he knew well enough that Poison Ivy had never been threatened by him like Harley was. No wonder Two Face was so thoroughly under her thumb.

"They'll never stop," the Joker said, his voice low, dark and very serious, "especially not the Bat."

Ivy's heart sunk a little. She knew what he was talking about. Since they had pulled Harvey out of Arkham, Gordon had been relentless. But it was the Batman who had stayed on their tail, forcing them to move time and again. It was taking its toll on the children, and on poor Harley. She'd been sick now for months, feverish and unable to keep her food down. Ivy had tried every toxin she knew, but what Harley needed was to retire from this lifestyle, from the Joker. It was him Batman came for, him that the Dark Knight couldn't trust to simply disappear and never come back, him that posed an eternal threat to Gotham as long as he lived. They all knew it.

"What are you saying?" she asked him. The Joker sighed. He glanced one more time over the figures he had scribbled so many times. Ivy looked too, it was so incoherent to her, but she knew he understood it well.

"Take this, it's an inventory of all my accounts and stashes," he instructed as he squashed the book into her hand, a sincerity accompanying the uncharacteristic awkwardness in him that she had never seen before, "it's for Harley."

Green tears welled in Ivy's disbelieving eyes. This could not be the Joker, the man who had never shown a shred of concern for anyone or anything but himself and his own delusions. Why did he show this side of himself only now? After all these years she had hated him for the way he treated Harley, and at times Jay-Jay too, why did he have to change now that he was leaving them? She took the little leather bound book he held out to her and slipped it into her pocket. The Joker would only trust Ivy with this, he knew she loved Harley almost as much as he did.

"What are you going to do?" Ivy asked. The Joker grinned suddenly, his sadness melting away. She knew it wouldn't last long, at least not on the outside. He picked up his purple coat and draped it onto himself. Then he opened the desk drawer and pulled out a hand gun, which he slipped into his oversized pocket.

"Go back to Gotham," he chuckled, "keep Batsy busy, go out with a bang, so to speak. Hahaha!"

Ivy folded her arms again, a look of curious disbelief on her face. The Joker continued to load his pockets with the usual tools of his trade. A pocket knife down his shoe, six blades strategically hidden in his belt, Joker Gas grenades the size of marbles in his inside chest pocket, a list of numbers he kept of the henchmen who had survived his service with honours.

"You're going to kill Batman?" Ivy asked, a little surprised. The Joker cackled, slapping his thigh and gasping for a breath. Of course, Ivy thought, killing Batman had never been his priority. Keeping Batman alive had been. He slowly composed himself and lit up a cigar.

"Nope, not kill him," the Joker mused, sucking in the toxic smoke, "just let him win once and for all."

Ivy gasped. He couldn't! He wouldn't! But the look of resolution pinned to the Joker's usual maniacal expression told that he indeed could and would. Ivy sighed sadly, leaning against his desk. Despite everything, she couldn't help but feel that he was their hero tonight. She wished she could say how much it meant to her that he was making such a sacrifice for Harley, at long last. But if she did, he would try to kill her. So she just smiled at him. The Joker understood.

"Look after them Ivy," he said, using her name for the first time ever, "make sure someone brings Poppet to see me sometimes."

Ivy nodded, a green tinged tear streaming down her cheek. The Joker tilted his purple felt hat, gave a smile and a wink and waltzed out of the room, leaving her alone by his desk. Ivy, despite herself, choked back a sob.

* * *

He slipped quietly into his bedroom, not wanting to wake them. It was dark, but he could see them well enough. Harley was fast asleep, wrapped in thick blankets to keep her warm. She didn't need makeup now, her face was so pale with fever. Blonde ringlets framed her face and her strawberry coloured lips made a heart shaped smile even as she slept. The Joker leant down and gently ran his index finger down her cheek. It was his favourite scar, she had cried so much when he cut her face.

"Toodles Harl," he whispered sadly, "thanks for being the only dame to give a guy a break. You always got the joke. Well, most of the time."

He kissed her cheek gently, smiling when she made a soft purring sound. He tucked the blankets around her neck and looked at her one more time before getting to his feet again. His eyes fell to the little bed on the other side of the room. He had to say goodbye, but he didn't want to. The Joker took slow steps over to his daughter – his secret weapon -and watched her for the longest time.

"Sleep tight Poppet, grow big and strong" he whispered with a chuckle, "you've got very big shoes to fill. Heha!"

He almost laughed, but stifled it with both hands so as not to wake them. What a time to be making jokes, he thought, but was interrupted by something he never expected. She smiled! Jay-Jay smiled back at him in her sleep! The Joker was stunned.

"Ha. How 'bout that," he mused, touching the little girl's nose with a long, white bony finger, "just like me." And with that, he turned and left, not looking back once.

* * *

As the Joker left the run down little country house they had stolen and made their own, he passed Harvey, who sat on the porch smoking. He hated to admit it, but he had enjoyed the non-working relationship he had shared with Harvey Dent over the past couple of years. Even so, he thought it best to ignore him as he slipped by.

"Hey!" Harvey called. The Joker stopped at the top of the stairs that connected the porch to the path that would lead him away from them all forever, one leg held mid-air dramatically as though the sound of Harvey's voice had frozen him in place like a deer caught in headlights. He turned to see his old friend and foe in one, leaning forward with two cigarettes, one in his good hand, the other in his twisted mouth.

"For what it's worth, you're doing the right thing," he said, taking the cigarette from his mouth, "we both think so."

The Joker grinned. He liked Two Face more than Harvey Dent, but Harvey had his moments too. If only they had been able to get along in Gotham City, what a team they'd have made! Well, it was not to be. At least not in this generation. They had talked about their children enough to know who was more like who. Dent was a man with vision, just like the Joker, they had big dreams for the little ones.

"Protect them Harv," the Joker said, noting the smile that appeared on Harvey's side, "make sure I get to see her again, before she's grown up. Ta-ta!"

Harvey Two Face nodded, the light dancing on his gruesomely scarred face. The Joker grinned again, pulled his collar up around his neck and took the stairs quickly, disappearing into the darkness of the night. Harvey sighed. Who would've thought that the Joker would ever do something noble?

"I thought he would," Two Face said in his rough growl of a voice, "me and the Joker, we understand each other."

Harvey frowned. He had to get this monster within him away from Thorne and Ivy. He leant back, drawing in the smoke twice. It had never been beyond Harvey Dent to be noble. But Two Face? That was another story. The Joker had spoken to Harvey though, not Two Face. 'Protect them Harv', that's what he'd said. Harvey sighed.

"Because the Joker knows that I have to get out of here too," he said to himself, ignoring the grumbles of his other half, "Harvey has to get Two Face out of here and away from them."

Ivy slipped into his vision, how long had she been standing there? He looked at her, beautiful as she had always been in both his eyes. Her face was riddled with concern, rubbed away tears stained her cheeks with the faintest shade of green, giving away their presence though she had tried to hide it.

"You're going too, aren't you?" she asked. Harvey took her hand, pulling her closer. She peered down at him, some of the usual strength missing from her eyes. He felt it hurt in his chest, poor Ivy had run this twisted family almost single handed. Sure, he and the Joker had been there to provide everything they needed. But Ivy had been their leader, Ivy had kept her eye on everything, been the voice of reason, kept the feuds to a minimum. Harvey felt guilty for leaving her.

"I don't want Thorne to know him…me," Harvey said, turning the dark side of his face away from her, "I promised the Joker that I'd take care of you. We both meant from me."


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

"You know?" Thorne asked, a little surprised. Jay-Jay nodded slowly, reaching for her glass. He looked down at the table, feeling the fearful wave wash over him for the first time with no barrier of secrecy to hold it back. Her hand brushed onto his fingertips and he looked up, she was leaning towards him with a worried expression.

"Doctor Isely, are you okay?" she asked. Thorne sighed. He had already told her about seven times to call him Thorne. He smiled, pulling his hand away and hastily taking a sip of his lemonade. Why had he agreed to this? Because it had told him to? No. Thorne remembered why. He was lonely since his mother had died, and Jay-Jay Quinzel was just like him.

"Fine, Miss Quinzel," he assured her politely, "it's just been hard. Very few people in this city or anywhere know who my father is."

Jay-Jay gave a soft laugh and smiled, tearing her napkin into little pieces and dropping them into her previous, unfinished glass. Thorne was enchanted again, she looked just like the Joker when she smiled. It frightened him a little, but only a little. She lifted her glass to her lips.

"Shall I remind you, doctor, who my father is?" she asked, her voice low and secretive behind the smile. She liked calling him by his title, liked watching the conflict of humble embarrassment with sheer arrogant pride in him at the mention of that one, simple word 'doctor'. He was shy, reluctant, but there was more to Thorne Isely than the met the eye, of that she was sure. Her words comforted him. Thorne felt immediately at ease for some reason, he saw it in her eyes. She had been lonely too. Like him, she had suffered every moment she had lived and breathed because of who she was.

"Some habits are hard to let go of," Thorne explained with a charming smile, "I've been so used to only having my mother know about Harvey Dent. Oh, and Bruce Wayne."

Jay-Jay coughed, almost choking on her drink. She slammed it to the table and stared Thorne in the eye. Now he felt a little more afraid of her. Her yellowish eyes seemed to burn and glow, there was no smile creating nostalgic imagined images now, just the horrific ones from old Gotham newspaper reels that terrified him.

"Bruce Wayne?" she asked, "why would you confide in Bruce Wayne, _out of curiousity_?"

Thorne was slightly confused by the darkness of her tone. Intriguing as it was, he desperately wanted to change the subject. But Jay-Jay continued to gaze at him, waiting for an answer to a question that seemed imperative to her.

"Well, he just seemed to know," Thorne explained carefully, "when my mother died he came to me, said he'd been a friend of Harvey Dent long ago, that he knew I was his son, it kind of just went from there."

Jay-Jay seemed to calm, shrinking back into her seat, her eyes cooling and the smile returning to her lips. She took another sip of her drink before sighing and gesturing for Thorne to lean close.

"Thorne," she said, the sound of his name in her voice sending shivers up and down his spine, "it is very important that Bruce Wayne knows nothing of our meeting or any more than he already knows of you."

"Why?" Thorne asked, somewhat indignantly as he remembered how Bruce had monopolised Jay-Jay at the Ball, "what's so important about Wayne?"

Jay-Jay couldn't help but grin wickedly. This didn't scare Thorne at all, but it woke up the other part of him very quickly. He felt it moving inside him, heard the low rumble of its laughter. Jay-Jay's eyes widened. Oh god no, Thorne thought, she saw it too. But her surprise melted away quickly and she smiled gently again, laying her hand on top of his.

"Thorne," she crooned to him, using his real name for the first time, "when I can trust you, I'll tell you everything, but not until I can trust _both_ of you."

Thorne gulped. No one had known this about him, not even his mother. Not even his father. There was only one way she could have known so much about him, understood it so well. The Joker had versed her well in the ways of Harvey Two Face. There was no playing polite with this girl, he reasoned to himself, she'd eat him alive.

"When can I trust you Jay-Jay?" Thorne asked, "_both of you_?"

Jay-Jay glared at him fiercely for the insinuation of her collusion with her father, but Thorne held his own, glaring back. Here, sitting before him, was the spawn of the most deadly criminal in the country, possibly the world, and all Thorne could think of was the revolver he didn't even know he had put into his jacket pocket. Jay-Jay laughed suddenly, breaking her stare.

"This is silly Thorne," she said, squeezing his hand, "we need each other as friends, not enemies."

He felt the darkness within him falling, his free hand let go of the revolver it clutched inside his pocket. What the hell was he thinking? He quickly transferred his hand from the pocket to the table, landing desperately on top of her fist, still squeezing his other hand. His eyes were wild, darting to avoid her, and she could feel his hands trembling within her own. She looked up at him, suddenly keenly aware of the danger she had accidentally avoided.

"Thorne...you can trust me," Jay-Jay promised sincerely, "and the Joker."

He couldn't look at her. He was too ashamed. Twice now, in just a few hours apart, he had teetered on the edge of control. It was getting stronger, demanding more of him, pushing and picking at him. Jay-Jay lifted his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. He cringed as her eyes searched him, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away from her.

"Let's get out of here," she suggested and Thorne smiled with relief. Jay-Jay rose from her seat and took his arm, holding him close to her side. They stepped onto the filthy street, downtown Gotham in all its glory, and headed towards Jay-Jay's apartment. But just as Jay-Jay turned down the alley where her door was concealed, Thorne grasped her arm, his eyes wide and intense.

"You can trust me too," he swore, the light dancing in his eyes, "but not him, not the other part of me."

Jay-Jay saw the shadows move over his face and took Thorne in her arms, feeling his desperation and confusion. What a curse he had been given, she thought, and how long had he been completely on his own with it? Thorne clung to her, burying his fingers into her clothing and skin. She didn't complain about the pain, or that his tears were running down her arm. His closeness was a counter balance to any discomfort.

"But not Two Face. I know," she whispered, reaching into his pocket and carefully moving the revolver into her own. Very close to danger, she thought to herself again. SheThorne pulled away suddenly, leaning against the grimy alley wall. It had started raining lightly, beads of moisture clung to his dark hair and eyelashes. Beautiful, Jay-Jay thought again. He reached out his hand and she took it, allowing him to lead her out of the alley and back in the other direction.

"Where are we going Thorne?" she asked him. He glanced at her, bringing his arm around her shoulders to shelter her from the rain with his jacket. It occurred to him for the first time tonight that she wore a long, purple coat not unlike the one her father was often pictured wearing. She was waiting for him to answer.

"My lab," he whispered, "I inherited things from my mother that could harm you unless you are inoculated against them. Plant toxins. It's why I can't really have friends around me. She gave the same shot to your mother many times."

To his surprise, Jay-Jay did not protest. She simply nodded, tightened her grasp on his arm and walked in time with his strides silently. He looked down at her from time to time, but her expression was always the same, resolute and cheerful. Even when he felt her head brush against his shoulder, her other hand cross in front of herself to squeeze his, her sudden stopping by a large dumpster, the expression stayed the same. He watched as she tossed his revolver into the dumpster and brushed her hands together before placing them on her hips.

"Consider it my first act of friendship," she chuckled, delighted that he smiled shyly at her, "I'll watch you for guns if you watch me for knives!"

Jay-Jay skipped into Thorne's open arms, allowing him to pick her up and twirl her around happily, the rain landing gently in a sheen over her smiling face. She tried to kiss him when he put her down, but Thorne quickly turned his head and held her back. Of all the things his mother had to give him, why was it venomous lips? He sighed, gently squeezing a drop of rain out of one of Jay-Jay's curls. She smiled sadly, just as unsure as he was.

"I have to immunise you first," he explained softly, "I don't want to hurt you."

Thorne took Jay-Jay's hand and led her onwards, trudging through the flooded street. They laughed when a taxi sped past, spraying them with water. Even at this early time of night, Gotham City was empty in the rain, and both Thorne and Jay-Jay thought of their parents. Gotham University was before them now, and Thorne took her in through the staff garage.

"Twenty two steps to my lab," he said to her with a wink and a smile. There was a refreshing sense of liberation in having her both know and appreciate his secrets that he was beginning to revel in. She laughed softly, following him up each step. Thorne unlocked the door and showed Jay-Jay in. Switching on the light, he took off his jacket and removed a locked metal box from his drawer. Jay-Jay watched with curiousity as he opened it and pulled out a hypodermic syringe and a vial filled with green fluid. Thorne filled the syringe and beckoned her over to him. Jay-Jay took a deep breath as he prepared her.

"Are you sure you want to?" he asked her, the syringe in his hand. Jay-Jay was still for a moment, but only a moment – memories of countless DIY blood transfusions to try and save her dying mother when they were too frightened to go to a hospital suddenly raw in her mind. Dismissing them quickly, she took the desk seat and smiled at Thorne with a slow nod, holding out her arm. He let his eyes connect with hers for a few seconds before leaning down over her exposed arm, tapping the flesh for a vein. His neatly combed hair had loosened with the rain and hung down over his forehead. It made Jay-Jay smile. Thorne positioned the needle.

"This might sting a little."


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Kissing Thorne Isely had been like licking warm syrup off your lips after a breakfast of pancakes. The venom ran thick and sweet, just like the sap of a plant or tree. Somehow, they had wound up back at his apartment, sitting on his balcony and staring at the wet city before them. Thorne had given her some of his own clothes and hung hers carefully to dry. When he had turned around, Jay-Jay had been unexpectedly behind him, smiling. He had smiled back coyly, allowing her to draw near enough to take his hand and let him lead her outside. The air was still warm, despite the growing breeze. Thorne lived on the twenty second floor of the second high rise building from the Second Bank Of Gotham. Jay-Jay raised her eyebrow slightly when he told her. But then he had pointed out what he had wanted to show her, the dismal view that held so much significant to them both. The asylum hung on the horizon, a festering scab against Gotham's growing sense of security, peace and harmony. Her father was in there, locked away until he disappeared into death, his captivity oh- so-generously funded by Gotham's _other_ hero, Bruce Wayne. It made her sick. Thorne had seen the look on her face and let go of her hand, worried that he had upset her. Her eyes fell on him immediately, soft and watered with tears.

"I have to get him out of there," she whispered. Thorne knew this feeling well. It had taken most of Pamela Isely's remaining life for Thorne to arrange a more comfortable facility for her to die in. But he knew there was no chance in hell of getting the Joker out of Arkham. He had brushed a stray tear off her cheek without thinking and was shocked to suddenly find her lips pressed against his. Jay-Jay felt the poison flow into her mouth almost immediately, it frightened her at first but Thorne tapped his finger gently on her bandage stripped arm, assuring her that she would be fine.

"This town hasn't forgotten as much as it seems," Thorne breathed softly, his nose brushing against Jay-Jay's cheek as he whispered in her ear, "it won't be easy."

Jay-Jay gazed at him searchingly, unsure if she had heard him right. He smiled at her, not a single shadow tainting his handsome expression or the sincerity in his eyes. She felt his hands slide up her arms and around her shoulders, pulling her a little closer.

"Are you saying you'll help me break the Joker out of Arkham Asylum?" she asked , still uncertain that she had heard correctly. He chuckled softly, the light glinting in his eyes and the shy exterior of his disposition a fading echo against the growing sense of comfort he felt with himself in her presence. He took her hand again, looking once more at the distant asylum.

"Harley Quinn did it, Poison Ivy did it, Two Face did it, the Joker did it," Thorne mused, watching the smile appear on her lips, "seems to me we've got a pretty good genetic track record in our favour."

Jay-Jay squealed with delight, throwing her arms around him happily. Though slightly overwhelmed, Thorne accepted her kisses as she offered them, squeezing her small body tightly in his arms. He felt exhilarated, despite his conscience scolding him fiercely, because the truth was that despite the insistent guidance of his mother into a better world than she had known, he had always been in love with the double lives of his parents. Jay-Jay stopped kissing him suddenly, aware that they had agreed to do something very dangerous. Thorne did not smile, just looked down at her.

"We must see him first," Jay-Jay suggested firmly, "okay?"

"Okay," Thorne replied, taking her hand and leading her inside.

* * *

Bruce was busy at work, the usual financial technicalities of being a billionaire with a very expensive secret. He had been punching numbers all night, but his mind was elsewhere. Arkham was on his heels again for the Joker's funding. He had killed one of their doctors for the sheer sport of it. Now they were demanding essential security upgrades that Bruce knew the Joker would have figured out in a matter of months. Sometimes, despite himself, he wished the clown would just die. Immediately, he regretted the sentiment, that's not who he was, not what Batman was. Ever since their last battle, when the Joker had discovered his identity, Bruce had paid for the Joker's comfort at Arkham, and his silence. Deep down, he knew that the Joker would never reveal that secret, no, that was something he would never give away for someone else to exploit. Even so, the threat was a subtle enough excuse for the Joker to make his bargain with Batman. The price Bruce paid was not for the Joker's silence, it was for his promise not to escape: assurance to Batman that he was no longer a threat…as long as he left Harley and Jay-Jay alone. Bruce knew that the Joker had his Arkham insiders send most of the money to Quinn and his daughter, but he could never prove it. Now, Bruce was almost as old as the Joker, but feared that his reign of terror had come back outlive them both, neatly wrapped in the ticking time-bomb that was either Jay-Jay Quinzel or Thorne Isely. Or both. The Joker's daughter had always been beyond his reach, but Bruce was determined not to lose Thorne, he had invested too much careful observation and subtle guidance in Harvey's son and he held hope that the best of Gotham's White Knight, and perhaps even Pamela Isely too, had found its way into their son.

"Whatever you pay them," came a voice from the door, "double it." Bruce let his grey eyes rest on Barbara, who sat with her arms folded and a stern look on her face. She so reminded him of James Gordon. He removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. He saw something subtle change in Barbara's expression, it reminded Bruce how old he must look now, but she composed herself quickly.

"Why should I double it?" Bruce asked, not surprised that Barbara Gordon knew as much as she did. She had been Batgirl up until the Joker had shot her in the spine and paralysed her, but she had never given up her part in his team. Barbara independently manned the Batcave for years before being named Oracle and leading her own team, the Birds Of Prey. Finally, she had been recognised and took her hard earned place with the Justice League.

"Because Dick's been spying on your junior psychopaths," she said with fierce spite in her voice, "looks like they made friends already. _Real good_ friends."

She tossed a disc to Bruce, who caught it effortlessly in one hand. She gave a look that screamed 'told you so' before wheeling herself away. Bruce frowned, bracing himself as he pushed the disc into a slot on the side of his desk, a screen automatically rising from the floor before him. As the disc began to play, Bruce felt his heart sink. Dick had captured hundreds of pictures without being asked. He knew they were in grave danger, and now there was no way Bruce could deny it or protect Thorne anymore.

"Barbara," Bruce said into his intercom sternly, "get Dr Isely on the phone."


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

He turned the key, each wrenching series of clicks piercing the silent night. He had been allowed to bring only the harlequin music box with him to his solitary confinement, a stipulation of his incarceration protocols after the time he murdered three guards with his bare hands for trying to take it from him. He was perfectly still as the soft melody tinkled away, a strange smile spreading across his face. The jack-in-the-box sprung out as it always did, its bright eyes and harlequin costume reminding him of Harley. Without shifting from his hunched posture, the Joker stuffed it back into the box, shut the lid and wound the key again. Something wet rolled from his eye to his lips, glistening with the same sparkle as the high pitched bells of the music box. He lapped it up quickly, the salty droplet dying on his tongue. With a sigh, he let his eyes close to catch the last few notes of the sweet tune she had hummed every day since she first heard it. Pop! It bobbed and smiled at him, suddenly filling him with violent rage. The Joker dropped the music box to the ground, kicking it across the stone floor roughly, before letting his head fall into his hands.

Death. It had never bothered him before. He had cheated it so many times, searched for it relentlessly, taunted and challenged it. But they had always been there to save him, Harley Quinn or the Bat. He had never believed he would outlive her. He had never hoped to. But he had, and Harley had never been the same after he left them, never came to visit, never said goodbye. He had watched her waste away a little more every day in the letters and photographs that came with Jay-Jays visits, and when his daughter arrived at his cell one evening with tears in her tired eyes, the Joker knew he had finally killed his Harley Quinn. Now, with his face buried deep behind his long, chalky white fingers, the Joker felt more alone than ever. And for the first time in his turbulent life he didn't like it. How he wished Jay-Jay would come to see him today, her little face beaming with the same mischievous smile her mother had been known for. But he knew she wouldn't, nor would it make a difference, Jay-Jay wasn't like Harley. Jay-Jay was just like him, she did whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, exactly how she wanted, planned or not. He smiled, pulling the torn pages from his pocket that had Harley's handwriting scrawled all over them.

"You'd be so proud," he whispered in a hoarse voice, clutching at the faded old letter, "just like you wanted Poo, just like me."

He felt something in his chest, something tight that he had only felt once before when Harley had died. He didn't like it. The Joker tapped his chest with his fist, giving a little cough. That did it. He stood up and walked across his cell to the harlequin box, its little jack-in-the-box still free and beaming at him. The Joker picked it up, just holding it for a moment, before returning to his cot. He stuffed the jack back in, shut the lid and turned the key, smiling as the melody began to tinkle again.

"Best dame in Gotham," he chuckled, "and she was all mine."

* * *

Ten past nine, Thorne thought, twenty minutes until he was due in at the lab. His hands brushed over Jay-Jay's pale flesh, tracing the clown tattoo that stared at him from her bare shoulder. Her head was nestled against his pillow, spilling honey coloured curls over the crimson satin case. He raised himself on one elbow and gently pressed warm kisses up her spine and on the back of her neck. Jay-Jay smiled sleepily, twisting to catch his lips with her own.

"Morning," Thorne greeted, wrapping her in his arms as she rolled over to face him, "I don't mean to rush you, but I'm late for work."

They both laughed at the irony and sheer ridiculousness of either of them – children of Gotham's super villains – having jobs like regular people. Despite his words, Thorne did not let her go and Jay-Jay simply nestled into his chest, sighing softly. A police siren whirred in the street below as the car sped by. Thorne felt Jay-Jay's body go tense. He laughed, twisting a curl in his fingers.

"They're not after us yet," he promised, kissing her hair, "but the university will be if I don't get to class."

Jay-Jay let him flip her onto her back. She yawned as he leaned over her, a silent plea for him to take the day off. Thorne kissed the tip of her nose, laughing as she tilted her head backwards slightly to kiss his mouth. Her arms coiled around his neck and he carefully lifted her off the pillows, sliding one arm under her knees to lift her out of his bed.

"Plans for today?" Thorne asked, carrying Jay-Jay into the kitchen. She yawned again, murmuring something about never being up this early in the morning unless it involved copious amounts of coffee. He chuckled again, setting her down in a seat at the breakfast counter.

"One coffee coming up," he promised, snatching his coat and draping it around her, "and a proposed plan, since you don't seem overly engaged today."

Jay-Jay slipped her arms into the coat, drawing it around herself and breathing in his scent. It was beyond her comprehension that he could be this bright so early in the morning, he had hardly slept all night. But as she considered this with a reminiscent smile, it occurred to her that Thorne, like Poison Ivy, was partially made of plant tissue. Of course, he opened like a flower with the morning sun.

"I have the week off," Jay-Jay smiled dreamily, scrunching her curls half-heartedly, "what do you have in mind?"

Thorne stirred the mug of coffee he had been fussing over before carefully delivering it to her grateful hands. He watched her sip at it slowly while he threw on a crumpled white shirt and rolled the sleeves midway up his forearm. She smiled when she saw him clumsily struggle with the buttons. Putting the coffee down, she beckoned him over to her and did them for him.

"Come to class with me," he suggested with a beaming smile, "I'm teaching plant behaviour, you're an animal psychologist, it could be a fun debate!"

Jay-Jay laughed. She took up her coffee and sipped at it again, her eyes locked on Thorne's eager face. He winked at her with a cheeky grin and slid into his black jeans, pulling a comb from the pocket. Jay-Jay was intrigued when he combed his hair straight back, parted it in the middle and brushed each side down perfectly, all without the aid of a mirror.

"Sounds like a sneaky way to keep me around all day," she teased, "you'll have to do better than that Thorne Isely."

He gathered up her clothes that lay scattered around his apartment, shaking the creases from them gently and placing them in a neat pile on her lap. Thorne carefully placed his thumb under her eye and wiped away the smeared black mascara, her eyes never leaving him. When he had finished, he leaned close, returning her stare with the same ardent potency.

"I like your clown tattoo," Thorne whispered, brushing his fingertips slowly down her bare thigh as he let go of her clothes. Jay-Jay bit her bottom lip, a violent wave of cold electricity piercing her. He had a victorious smile dancing on his lips.

"Bathroom's down the hall, first on the right," he informed her with an ever growing grin, "be ready in ten minutes."

* * *

"Sorry Bruce," Barbara sighed, "I've tried calling several times. He's not answering his cell either."

Bruce frowned. He saw the crease above Barbara's right eyebrow deepen slightly as her eyes fixed on him, reading his expressions like a book. He was in no mood for her or Dick today, he was in no mood for anyone. Sometimes it seemed to him that fate was inexplicably on the Joker's side. It had made him question his purpose so many times.

"Call the university, he has classes today," he instructed, watching as Barbara began to ask the inevitable tedious questions, "I don't care if he's in class Barbara, have them drag him out."

Without a word of protest or further question, Barbara Gordon promptly did as she had been directed, knowing that the Gotham they had worked so hard to build was in danger of tumbling down around them all over again.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The first class had gone quickly enough, a nice short study group before his morning break and main class of the day. Jay-Jay had sat quietly at the back reading half -heartedly, more captivated by Thorne's smooth voice than the diagrams and scientific terms before her. When his timer finally went off and the last student had shuffled from his lab, Thorne simply sat at his desk, watching her.

"Don't think I haven't noticed you, Thorne," she said, her eyes never leaving the book she pretended to read, "both of you."

Thorne laughed quietly to himself, realising that Jay-Jay was just as taken by his darker half as she was with his charmingly shy, slightly offbeat self. When he beckoned to her, Jay-Jay snapped the book shut and slowly rose to her feet. Each step toward him was equally as dramatic and accidental as it had been that night at the Ball.

"I see right through you," she informed him, perching on the side of his desk, "I can tell what you've been thinking."

Thorne placed his elbows on the desk in front of him, resting his chin on his hands and giving her a look of boyish innocence. She smiled when he winked at her, wondering what Thorne saw in her that he kept to himself. His arms folded down so that his hands rested, one on top of the other, on her knee.

"What do you see Jay-Jay," he asked gently, "what am I thinking?"

Her smile dropped slightly and she looked away as though unsure, but only for a split second. When she met his gaze again, it was with an expression of pure resolve tainted by a painful longing that Thorne felt he inexplicably understood. He was hypnotised by that look, leaning closer and grasping her hand tightly.

"You're thinking that it's time this city remembered," she whispered in a dark tone, "that they be reminded why it was a mistake to forget. My father rots in Arkham, Thorne, while the Batman lives free and without retribution for _his_ crimes. It's not right."

Thorne's eyes widened. His grip on her hand had tightened, he could see her fingertips turning bright red. He let go, taking her other hand as she shook the one he had held back to life. Thorne looked down at his desk for a moment, listening to the other half of himself convince him that their time had come, that he trusted Jay-Jay and so should Thorne. He looked up at her bright face.

"Batman…I have wanted him to pay all my life," Thorne confessed, reaching into the rose shrub on his desk, "I have no idea who or where he is. But his fate was decided on my father's death bed."

Thorne opened his hand to reveal the legendary silver half dollar, double headed and deeply scored on one side. Harvey Two Face had used it to determine the fate of all who fell in his path and to decide the course of his criminal career. A green tinged tear rolled down Thorne's cheek, Jay-Jay wiped it away with her fingers.

"It was one of the few times I had ever really seen my father up close," Thorne reminisced sadly, "we flipped it together. Bad heads for the Batman's blood, there was no other way around it. Not for me."

Jay-Jay slid off the desk and into his arms, holding him tightly. Soon enough, she would be an Arkham orphan too. She had to trust Thorne, there was no one else. His company had lifted her spirits and her father wanted it this way. And though she struggled to admit it to herself, Jay-Jay felt great affection for him. She had no doubts that Thorne was on her side.

"Thorne, I know who the Batman really is," Jay-Jay confessed firmly, kissing Thorne's teary cheek, "but you're not going to like it."

* * *

The lab quickly filled with students, shuffling and laughing with one another as they took their seats. Jay-Jay glanced at Thorne, he was still pale after the conflicting emotions had brought his other self to the surface. She had spoken with _him_ – with Two Face - calmly, convinced him to return Thorne to her with the promise of making Bruce Wayne pay dearly for the years of deceit and pain he had caused them. Before it had sunk back into that deep, dark place within Thorne, he had laughed and remarked at the hypocrisy of Wayne's own double life, taking the law into his own hands had made the Batman not so unlike Harvey Dent. Jay-Jay had agreed, shared a smile with the other creature, and watched Thorne slowly return to her. He had calmed quickly, even brightened a little, but she saw that he felt deeply betrayed. Bruce Wayne had claimed to be Harvey Dent's friend, had vouched for Pamela Isely, had supported Thorne in so many ways, but it was all a lie. Guilty money from the claws of the Bat, the one who had cost his family everything. Thorne seemed eerily cheerful at the prospect of his demise.

"Hey Doc, who's the pretty lady?" one student called out playfully, "she's quite a blossom compared to your usual lilies and roses, hey!"

Thorne smiled shyly when his class erupted into a chorus of agreement. Jay-Jay smiled. The student who had called out bounded over to her and extended his hand, which she shook happily. He introduced himself as Manfred, but insisted that she call him Manny. With the small class echoing agreements, Manny informed Jay-Jay that Dr Isely spent far too much time hanging out in the lab with his plants and that they'd be really grateful if she could perhaps do something about that.

"Well Manny," Jay-Jay grinned, "that's the plan."

Thorne called his class to order and Manny took his seat. It was a small gathering, but Jay-Jay could see in their eager expressions that each one of them loved botany almost as much as Thorne. Except for one, a dark haired young man who sat alone at the back with his arms folded, peering over his glasses with dark beady eyes.

"Miss Quinzel is actually here for a reason," Thorne informed the class, "she is an animal psychologist, specialising in predatory mammals, and since we have been discussing predatory plant behaviour, I thought perhaps it would be worthwhile to compare notes."

Jay-Jay smiled amiably at the enthused students, but her attention was drawn to the dark haired one. He sat with his lips pursed in a little smirk, staring at her. Thorne had noticed, but made very little of it. He gave her a look that promised to explain later. But later was not entirely necessary. The creature shamelessly interrupted Thorne mid-sentence, his voice high pitched and piercingly loud.

"So, a kind of psychologist, Miss Quinzel?" he remarked, "just like mama, huh? And specialising in predatory mammals, was it? How fascinating! I've never heard the Joker described that way before."

Jay-Jay glared at him, aware that the dark haired man was intentionally pushing her buttons. She composed herself quickly, knowing that this was not the usual attack she had become so adept at deflecting. A fierce frown had appeared on Thorne's face as he scowled at the young man. The room had fallen into deathly silence, Jay-Jay knew she had to deal with this before Thorne did. He was still teetering on the edge of his duality.

"That's enough Crane!" Thorne warned, but Jay-Jay had risen to her feet with an astonished look of interest on her face. She smiled and laughed, basking in the angry glower that came from those beady eyes as she did. Jay-Jay wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling.

"Crane? As in Jonathon Crane? You've got to be kidding," she mocked, her smile suddenly fading, "now, where do I know him from? Many a family reunion perhaps, old Uncle John, the Scarecrow!"

Crane attempted to stare her down, but Jay-Jay had the Joker's eyes and no one had ever stared him out, not even Batman. He gathered his pack quickly and left the lab with a prompt slamming of the door. Thorne glanced at Jay-Jay, who was once again seated and smoothing her skirt with a sweet smile. He couldn't help but grin when he noticed his class nodding their heads in approval, some even clapped. It was about time someone had put the arrogant Dorian Crane in his place. Thorne knew that Jay-Jay felt like he did with these students, free from judgement, because they had been too young to remember their infamous parents, to jaded to care when they had learned.

"Anyone else?" Thorne asked, waiting for a moment in silence, "great, let's get started then."

But as Thorne opened the text book on his desk and began asking the students what they had learned from the experiments he had assigned each of them, a mousy faced girl knocked on the laboratory door. She shuffled nervously when Thorne looked up, her eyes darting back and forth at all the plants that crowded the lab.

"Uh, Doctor Isely, there's a call for you," she said hesitantly, "it's apparently very urgent."

Thorne sighed. It was shaping up to be one of those days, yet he felt happier than he had since his mother had died. He thanked the girl, who scuttled away quickly, her face the portrait of relief. Thorne instructed them half-heartedly to compare notes, knowing that his students would immediately gather around Jay-Jay once he had left the lab. He smiled at her and she waved, fingers tinkling in the air.

"Try not to frighten Miss Quinzel too much while I'm gone," he implored the impish faces before him. They laughed, mock promises resonating loudly from amongst them. Jay-Jay could clearly see that they adored Thorne. As soon as he had left, they were gathered about her like clockwork, their faces full of curiousity and intrigue. To Jay-Jay's surprise, it had nothing to do with her family or Thorne's. All they wanted to talk about was how cool these botany classes were because of Doctor Isely, and fish for gossip on his interest in _Jay-Jay Quinzel_, rather than the Joker's daughter. It was a pleasant change, and she happily answered their questions.

* * *

Thorne had taken the call on his office phone up the hall, his office that he never used. Strangely, he had not been all that surprised to hear Bruce Wayne on the other end. No one else ever called him here. Thorne closed his eyes as he listened to the voice of the man that had betrayed and killed his father, the man who had hindered and destroyed his mother. A smile danced on his lips.

"Thorne, listen to me," Bruce pleaded, "I must speak with you in person about your parents and about who you are. But in the meantime, promise me you won't see Jay-Jay Quinzel until you hear the truth."

Thorne gave a low laugh, dark and menacing. He felt Bruce go silent, heard the recognition as his breath quickened ever so slightly from the slow and steady pattern it had been. This man, this Bruce Wayne, had deceived them all. But not the Joker. And now, not Thorne or Jay-Jay either.

"Now Bruce, really, why would I promise such a thing?" Thorne scoffed in a dark voice, "the way I see it, I have heard the truth...Batman."


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

"Since when did Jonathon Crane go forth and multiply?" Jay-Jay asked Thorne as they sat together in Gotham Central Park. Thorne laughed, remembering the defeated look on Dorian's face as he made his hasty retreat. He'd not seen that face since the day he himself had tied Crane up with a vine and calmly reminded him who he was dealing with.

"Dorian isn't Professor Crane's son, just his favourite student," Thorne explained, "apparently the one he chose to succeed him."

Jay-Jay realised suddenly that Dorian Crane was only in Thorne's class to keep an eye on the son of Poison Ivy and to learn whatever he could about his inherited immunity to toxins, including the Scarecrow's fear inducing gases. Thoughts ran riot in her head, crashing into one another and creating more concise ideas by accident. The same way her father conceived every plan he had, completely at random.

"Will he be a problem?" Jay-Jay asked. Thorne thought for a moment, but she could see that he already knew the answer to the question he had asked himself before. Prior to meeting Jay-Jay, Dorian Crane had –disappointingly - been the closest thing Thorne had to his parents. He shook his head.

"No, quite the contrary," he explained, "I've seen Dorian Crane single handedly put people in cataleptic nightmares for weeks just to get what he wants. He just might come in useful one day."

Thorne let himself fall backwards to lie in the cool grass. He gazed dreamily up at the swaying branches of the tree they sat beneath. Jay-Jay curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder. They could hear the nearby traffic, but it didn't matter. It was mostly drowned out by the twittering birds and the rustle of the leaves as they were cooled by the breeze. Thorne sighed.

"When Batman is gone forever, I'll take you to Africa and South America," Thorne promised, his eyes closed and a little smile on his face, "you'll never see forests and jungles so beautiful anywhere else."

Jay-Jay grasped his wrist, pulling his arm tighter around her. She couldn't help it, no matter how much the Joker had warned her that emotions would make her weak, she just wanted to enjoy Thorne and the way he made her feel. Perhaps, Jay-Jay thought, she was more like her mother than she thought. A sadness descended on her when she thought of Harley Quinn. Her father was her hero, for certain, but Harley had been something else. Harley had shown Jay-Jay that the Joker was not insane, that he was a genius who couldn't let anything – not even love - stop him from completing his work. Harley had chosen to never see him again so that the Joker could do what he was meant to do. It broke her heart and, along with the years of exposure to the toxic poisons her father crafted for his work, eventually killed her. Jay-Jay had watched it happen, painfully aware that she was what the Joker was slowly completing.

"Perhaps I'll take you to the circus," she mused, her voice brighter than she felt. Thorne pressed his nose into her hair, slowly breathing in the scent. A soft murmur escaped him as he coiled his fingers in her curls.

"The greatest show on earth," Thorne said with a smile. Jay-Jay laughed, her eyes accidentally catching the roof of Gotham City Police Department in the distance. That's where they used to call _him_ with the signal. Her eyes narrowed and a dark smile splashed across her face.

"In Gotham City, absolutely."

* * *

Barbara had found Bruce kneeling on the floor of his office in tears. He had never looked so frail before, it frightened her more than she wanted to admit. Barbara had pushed her chair to him and opened her arms warmly as she always had, letting Bruce sob in her lap as she pat his head and whispered words of comfort.

"He knows. Barbara, he knows. I failed Harvey again," Bruce choked from behind his tears. Barbara shook her head with frustration. Why couldn't he just accept that Harvey Dent had slipped out of their reach decades ago? Bruce alone had fought to maintain hope that both he and Poison Ivy could be rehabilitated. Neither Barbara nor Dick had ever believed it possible, and they had been right.

"I thought I could protect Thorne," Bruce continued, his blue eyes looking up at Barbara with sincerity, "I thought if I couldn't save Harvey I could at least save Thorne. Even Ivy seemed to want that for him, and I failed. I failed."

Barbara gave a sigh that was partially exasperation, but mostly concern. She felt pity for Bruce, the last few years had really changed him. He wasn't Batman anymore, not without Arkham's children running lose and wreaking havoc in Gotham. Especially not without the Joker. Even if they had been there, Bruce was simply too old for the cape now, even Dick had begun to slow to an unacceptable performance.

"Bruce, did you ever stop to realise that neither Harvey Dent or Pamela Isely _knew who you were_?" Barbara offered, her voice firm and gentle, "maybe they wouldn't have seen you as such a benevolent, helpful figure if they'd known that at the same time you were their number one antagonist."

Bruce seemed wounded by her words, but his eyebrows quickly formed a frown and he picked himself up off the floor, returning to his usual state of dignified defiance. He stared down at her with an expression that both infuriated and hurt Barbara Gordon.

"If that's what you believe about Batman, about our cause," he said in a low voice, "then maybe you're on the wrong team."

Barbara's mouth hung open in shock. Bruce had never spoken to her so harshly, never scolded her opinions so crudely. She resented that he questioned her dedication to the pursuit of justice, it had been hard for her not to take the Joker's life so many times after what he had done to her and her family. She frowned, folding her arms as Bruce walked away from her.

"I'm just trying to see it from their perspective," she called to him before he left the room, "Bruce, just try to imagine how that poor boy must be feeling right now. Even how Jay-Jay Quinzel must have felt when she found out. We're going to be dealing with a whole new ball game this time, where all the players are unmasked. I think it's important we try to understand them."

Bruce had stopped, his hand grasping the door frame tightly as he listened to Barbara's final words. She had always been wise, just like her father, but never more so than now. Bruce knew how hard it was for her to sympathise with anyone connected to the Joker, yet here she was imploring him to acknowledge as she had that it was beyond necessary. It was essential.

"You're right Barbara, I apologise," he said gruffly, "I just...I just don't have it left in me. They don't want to be their parents, they just want justice. They want Batman's blood spilled on the steps of Arkham as fair sentence for his perceived crimes. Alfred always warned me of this day, I can't honestly say that I'm surprised that it has finally come."

Barbara approached Bruce slowly, her eyes watery with tears but fixed on him questioningly. She took his free hand gently and returned his sad smile. The Batman had been her hero since she was a child, her father had always spoken so highly of him. Since James Gordon had died, Bruce had been all she had left in the world. Even now, he was still her hero.

"Nothing is ever final in Gotham City," Barbara reminded him, "we're not out of this game yet. Not by a long shot."


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"Hey, hey," the Joker giggled with menacing glee, "you know why I don't eat Arkham's food when I'm here?"

Thorne stared the clown-like man straight in the eye, disturbed by the chaotic kaleidoscope of glinting evils revolving in the yellow retina. Yes, he was frightened of the Joker, but also deeply intrigued. Jay-Jay glanced at him from her father's side, a smile-less expression on her face as she gave a slow, cautionary nod. She had warned him to play along with her father no matter what, never disagree with him, but never agree too enthusiastically, and always stroke his ego on cue.

"I'm afraid I don't," Thorne replied calmly, "but I'd like to."

Good work, Jay-Jay thought, breathing a hidden sigh of relief that Thorne had not given a lame on the spot answer to the joke. The Joker would have hurled something at him if he had, maybe worse. The Joker just beamed and gestured out of his cell dramatically. Within the second, Thorne heard plates and cutlery crashing to the ground along with the revolting gags and chokes of those eating from them. Alarms began to ring and guards rushed past, heading towards the lunch room. The Joker grinned, his yellow stained teeth gleaming in the darkness of his cell.

"Because it's just not safe," he hissed before erupting into cackles of laughter. Thorne looked at Jay-Jay, who just shrugged and smiled. Such was the Joker's sense of humour. Thorne couldn't help but wonder how he had pulled the poisoning off whilst kept securely in this cage, but he dared not ask. Jay-Jay had not failed to mention that questioning the Joker was an almost certain death sentence. Instead Thorne just laughed, something that caught the Joker's interest momentarily

"Hmm, Daddy's Boy eh?" he grinned, stroking his chin with a wicked smile. Thorne stopped laughing and met the Joker's intense gaze. Monstrous, just like his mother had always described him, but there was something overtly attractive about his mannerisms. Almost charmingly sophisticated, the Joker at times seemed like a mad gentleman.

"Ah, yes, there it is," he whispered under his breathe, reaching out and pinching Thorne's chin between his long, white fingers, "plenty of Pretty Poison, true, but something deeper of my ol' chum Harv, I must say."

Thorne saw Jay-Jay wring her hands nervously, it did little to calm him. But deep inside, he was being sourced by his other half with the courage, and indeed the boundless indignant charm, to maintain his steady heart rate. The Joker grinned widely, twisting his face from side to side as he did, his eyes scanning Thorne's countenance top to bottom. He patted his cheek gently before letting go and settling in his cot again.

"So, the scourge of Gotham lives on!" the Joker cackled, wrapping an arm around Jay-Jay and pulling her into an iron gripped hug, "how hilarious that I be the last one left standing to see it."

He planted a loud kiss on her forehead before letting her go and chuckling softly to himself. Jay-Jay patted his hand with a smile that seemed to mimic his own, yet strangely Thorne saw more of Harley Quinn in her countenance as she sat next to her father.

"My Poppet tells me interesting things about you, Thorne Isely," the Joker mused, leaning forward, "it seems you got two daddies for the price of one."

The Joker snickered softly, keenly aware that something in Thorne's chest tightened, never one to miss where another creatures weakness lay. He made a small but dramatic beckoning gesture to Thorne, leaning a little closer. Thorne cautiously slid forward in his seat and leaned slowly in towards the Joker.

"I think she likes you," the Joker whispered before erupting into hysterics. Jay-Jay continued to simply smile, her eyes dancing joyfully as she basked in the laughter of her father. It had been so long since she had seen him so genuinely elated. Thorne returned her smile and looked back to the Joker, who wiped a tear from his left eye, still heaving from the tickle.

"Well, I can't say I'm really all that surprised," the Joker confessed, his voice more serious but still theatrically animated, "it's not easy for a girl like my Poppet to find her - should we say - double! Hahaha! Double trouble, that's my Poppet!"

She certainly did have an aptitude for malevolence, Thorne had found. He had on various occasions watched her make life difficult for anyone who crossed her path. And by difficult, he meant Jay-Jay storming up to the offensive individual and viciously slapping their bare cheek before prancing away, jubilant again. Later, the marked assailant would wake to find that their face had erupted in a nasty rash from the blow, due to a toxic cream she would coat on her palm prior to the attack. While Jay-Jay would immediately cleanse her skin, the victim unsuspectingly absorbed the slap-administered poison and awoke to a painfully flesh eaten face. For obvious reasons, this amused Thorne to no end.

"But you," the Joker continued, "you are cut from the same rotten apple as _she_ was! Oh yes, I was never a friend of your mother, Thorne, but I remember well the wrath of Poison Ivy. Not to mention daddy-dear, my number one rival for the throne of Gotham, or should I say number two? Hahahaha!"

Thorne was captivated. This old man wasting away before him had once been the terror of Gotham City, had worked his violence side by side with Two Face and Poison Ivy, had created and catapulted the infamous Harley Quinn. Now he spoke of Thorne's father with a degree of reverence that Thorne had never heard before. The Joker was quick to notice Thorne's expression of wonder.

"Oh yes, my boy," he mused, "Harvey Two Face was relentless. Aside from that meddlesome Night Rat, nothing interfered more with my ambitions than your father."

The Joker rose from his cot and strolled around his cell, whistling and occasionally glancing at either Thorne or his daughter. He knew why they had come to him, he had anticipated that they would. At last, the time for retribution and his last stand against the Bat had come. Oh and how fitting that he genetically bring the four cornerstones of Arkham together to do it! The Joker was ecstatic, excited and ominously calculative, keeping his thoughts trapped behind a malicious smile.

"But in the end," the Joker recalled, gazing at them both, "we all fell together. See, people like me, like Pretty Poison and Harvey Two Face, hell even Harley, we could never just retire! Nope. You both grew up on the run, I know. It was either run or wind up in here. All things considered, you both turned out alright. Sufficiently twisted for my liking, hehah!"

Thorne nodded his agreement. It was no farce, he remembered well how his mother had struggled to raise him alone against the accusations and relentless persecutions, and it pained him to think that Bruce Wayne had been the one who saved them. But in the same swipe of his black gloved fist, he had killed Harvey Two Face only a year later in his other guise as the Batman. The Joker read Thorne like an open book. Jay-Jay had confessed to him that she had revealed to Thorne the identity of Batman.

"Sometimes I think I would have sunk away out of sheer boredom had it not been for Bats," the Joker chuckled, his face suddenly darkening as he peered at Thorne with a strange intensity, "he has just as much guilt under his cape as any of us did. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

For three solid hours, the Joker versed Thorne in the philosophies he held dear, those that he had spoon fed his daughter since childhood. And for the most part, despite a few minor disagreements, Thorne listened to him. At long last, the Joker had grown weary and ordered them to leave him in peace. He cupped Jay-Jay's face between his hands and pressed his nose against hers, demanding that she promise to return and visit him soon. She smiled as she agreed to do so sincerely and Thorne was warmed – though confused - slightly when the Joker gave her a wink of fatherly gratitude. He brushed her out of his cell when the guard came, waving with a cheerful 'toodles' chimed after her. But as Thorne nodded his respectful goodbyes to the Joker and turned to follow her, the clown latched onto his arm and pulled him close, his boney fingers still strong enough to grip Thorne tightly.

"Hurt my girl and there won't be a damned thing funny about what I do to you," the Joker warned. Thorne knew he was talking to the deeper, darker part of himself, but refused to let it rise and confront the Clown Prince. He simply nodded sincerely, accepted the Joker's smile as he let go of Thorne's arm, and followed after Jay-Jay, somewhat relieved when the cell door slammed shut behind him, locking in everything except the maniacal peals of laughter from within.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Joker had assigned them a simple task, one that was both inexpensive and unimaginative, but a necessary test of their ability to take on the Bat. Prove to him that they could do it. One each, and one to share, that was the rule. Somehow, the simplicity of it all seemed too easy, Jay-Jay knew her father was counting on them to impress him with a little something extra, to prove that she could 'fill the very big shoes he wore' as he always described it. He wanted to see what Arkham had created in them, he wanted to remember Gotham in flames as it once had perpetually been under his rule. She was determined that her father would not be disappointed.

Thorne had hauled a heavy trunk from the back of his closet, his eyes steely and determined despite the trickles of feverish sweat that stung them. His other side was agitated, active with anticipation, it had been ever since the visit with the Joker. Jay-Jay had watched intently, cross legged and curious, at the end of his freshly made bed. When Thorne had finally dragged the solid oak chest to where she sat, he wiped his face on his sleeve and grinned as he blew the dust from the lid. The chest was padlocked...twice. Producing a bronze key, Thorne unlocked the chest, a heavy metal chain sliding from the intricate latch and clanking to the ground. He grasped the lid handles at either side and with a single deep breathe, Thorne lifted it open. Jay-Jay peered into the darkness at the assortment of bits and pieces, things she had never thought she'd ever see for herself. But there, neatly piled and collected, they were.

"This is everything my father had in his apartment when I went to collect his effects after he died," Thorne explained, "just like this, all packed away, that's how I found it. Like he knew what would happen to him."

He ran his fingers quickly through his hair before reaching into the chest. He laid the finely tailoured suit on the bed, smoothing out the creases. It was split in two down the middle, one half black and the other white, with the tiniest trace of blood splatter on the left sleeve. Jay-Jay wondered if it was the blood of Two Face or that of the unfortunate victim he had shot point blank. The suit was almost Thorne's shape and size, though he was a bit smaller in the shoulders than his father had been. To it, Thorne added a few small bits and pieces – a pair of watches, one analog and the other digital, a black comb in which Jay-Jay could still see traces of Harvey Dent's dark hair and a few wiry strands of grey that intrigued her, and a small bottle of nitric acid. Was that what had done it to him? For the life of her, Jay-Jay couldn't remember.

Thorne then began to add Harvey Dent's impressive collection of firearms to the memorabilia. Of these, only two items really stood out to them both. The first was a box of ammunition, each bullet carefully carved with the phrase 'double or nothing' and the number 2. The second was Two Face's infamous double barrelled shot gun, a deadly piece of weaponry that still faintly smelled of smoke and death. Thorne held it comfortably in his left hand.

"A friend of Poison Ivy inspected it after Two Face died, said it's in perfect condition, a real piece of work as far as guns go," Thorne mused, "Harley Quinn, she knew her guns well."

Jay-Jay smiled at the reference to her mother. It still charmed her to know that his parents and her own had interacted, loved and warred with one another so often. She moved onto her hands and knees, leaning forward to kiss Thorne, before inspecting one of the bullets closer. She grinned, amused by the prospect of their task.

"Take the bullets and his gun, Thorne," she instructed, "he left this stuff for a reason, for you."

Thorne nodded. He had known that the night he first opened the chest and shyly fingered his way through it with his mother. She had wept quietly to herself in private for Harvey Dent, and that night her eyes were glazed but dry. Though she would deny it forever, Thorne had always known that his parents had cared for one another in their distant and often cruel way. Harvey had even told Thorne once in a letter that Ivy had begged him to live with them after Harley Quinn had disappeared with her daughter. But like most volatile individuals, they simply could not coexist in peace, and the idea was short-lived at best. He wondered if it would be same for him with Jay-Jay. For now, he consoled himself, it did not matter.

They were ready. A strange electricity emanated from the city tonight. Gotham was relishing its last day of security and freedom, knowing that tomorrow the floodgates of Arkham would be swung open wide again. Jay-Jay wondered if they would see the Bat, but doubted it. No, he was too old to swing from skyscrapers and leap the rooftops anymore. So was Nightwing. There was no more Robin, no more Batgirl, to protect Gotham. The Joker had known it would be this way, he had planned that his final confrontation with Batman would be one of final victory for Arkham, and he had planned it years ago.

"One each, and one to share," Thorne reminded her casually as he loaded the gun, "do you think you can do it?"

Jay-Jay laughed, delighted by the smile she received from Thorne. He began to laugh with her, still holding his father's freshly loaded gun.

"Do you?" she asked. Thorne was thoughtful, surprised to find that he felt no real apprehension about killing another human being. The Joker had called it a test of character, proof that both he and Jay-Jay had what it took to bring a city to its knees. To bring the Batman to his knees.

"I have no false illusions about myself Jay," Thorne said sincerely, "I'm not my father or my mother. But I am their son, and for that reason I will see them avenged. So will you."

The night wore on until it hit a standstill. The preparations had been made, everything stood ready. All that lay ahead was a few hours of sleep that would not come. Jay-Jay stared at the ceiling as Thorne buried his face in her hair, the darkness seeming to close in around them. It felt like being a child on Christmas Eve, trying desperately to sleep so that Santa and the morning would come sooner. The anticipation was exhilarating, one thought above all playing on their minds. Batman.

They both knew that the Joker had withheld whenever possible from killing the Batman because he had been an essential element to his own sense of fun. But now, the Joker was dying and only wanted to be entertained one last time. Thorne felt something move inside him, twitching and restless amidst the desire for vengeance, knowing that it would come down to himself and the Joker contending for the Bat's blood. He wondered if Jay-Jay would fight with him when the time came, knowing that she would be torn, and decided that he would not expect her to. The Joker was her father, just as Two Face was his, and just as it was for himself, he knew where her loyalty would lie in the end.

He felt Jay-Jay's hands undressing him with quiet precision as she murmured in the darkness '_can't sleep, can't sleep…_'. She draped herself over him, sucking on his lips hungrily, clawing at his chest with her fingernails. He couldn't contain his other self anymore, it wanted her too, perhaps more than he did. Jay-Jay laughed when Thorne roughly pulled her against him before throwing her on her back. He knew this was dangerous, he knew he might hurt her, but he couldn't stop it now. She laughed as her hands clung to his shoulders, biting deeply into the flesh as she lay beneath him, her legs wrapped tightly around him. For hours, Jay-Jay endured both sides of Thorne, each as demanding and relentless as the other, before finally being released by his more tender kisses into the safety and comfort of his affection.

Thorne felt Jay-Jay press against him, her small arms holding to him gently. She had fallen asleep, and he felt his own eyes grow heavy and close. Tomorrow night they would go out into the city like predators on the hunt, returning as changed creatures hungry from chaos. In their wake they would leave a trail of death and destruction, the perfect bait to lure a bat. And then, when the time was right, Thorne would see that Bruce Wayne suffered before his execution, just as Harvey Dent and Pamela Isely had at the hands of the Batman. His blood would water the earth he had stripped bare and allow something to grow in the space left by the death of his parents. And how could Bruce argue with that? He used the same excuse. With this thought appeasing his mind, Thorne smiled and felt himself drift into a deep sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

(_Nine years ago, ten years since Harley Quinn left Poison Ivy..._)

"Please don't..." Ivy pleaded, the slightest hint of desperation in her voice. For a moment, it frightened Harvey, because Ivy was never desperate for help. He sighed, leaning against the wall and tracing his thumb around the edge of his silver coin. She turned away and he knew she would cry once he had gone, when no one could see her. God he hated this, hurting her, this wasn't him. Harvey felt slightly irritated that Two Face seemed to have abandoned him at the one time he actually could have used the ruthless bastard to make her hate him. To make it easier for her.

"You'll always know where to find me Pam, if you need me," he promised, watching as her shoulders slumped hopelessly. She knew she couldn't change his mind. Harvey placed his hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. Her eyes glistened with tears that had not yet fallen, but they were ready and it would not be long.

"You won't need me, you know that," he reminded her gently, brushing the first green droplet from her cheek, "you're strong Pamela, you've always been strong, maybe stronger than any of us ever really were. You'll make it, I know you will."

Ivy smiled, it was the only way she could stop from crying. First the Joker had left them on his first and only noble crusade to appease the Bat and ensure their safety. Then Harley had insisted on going out on her own with Jay-Jay, certain that the three of them together would quickly attract attention. Harvey had agreed with her, carefully maintaining his distance from Ivy and Thorne, but never too far. But then the Bat had found them, and Harvey was intending on following the Joker, only in a more diplomatic fashion. They had heard quickly of the chaos and carnage that their companion had left in his wake, Harvey had grinned and remarked that it 'must've been one hell of a show'.

"Flip for it Harvey, please," Ivy begged, grasping his sleeve, "at least give fate a chance!"

He smiled at her sadly, this was the first major decision he had made without his coin for years. One of the few moments that Harvey Dent and Two Face were in agreement. He still thought it was remarkable that creatures as brutally cold as the Joker and Two Face could be softened by their own flesh and blood. He glanced at the coin, tempted, but resolved.

"I can't. Ivy, this is not something that can be left to chance or fate," he tried to explain, feeling the weight of his own emotions suddenly, "would you put Thorne's life down to the flip of a coin?"

Tears were streaming down Ivy's cheeks now like trails of sap, silent tokens of her thoughts. He could almost predict what she was thinking, what she would say, but he didn't want to listen.

"No, but it doesn't have to be this way Harvey," Ivy cried, "why can't you just flip the damn coin and see what happens?"

Harvey held the coin in his right palm, he stared at it for a moment, thinking. He didn't want to leave them anymore than Ivy did. But if he stayed the Bat would hunt them down before going after Harley Quinn and the Joker's daughter. At least, Harvey thought, if he negotiated with the Batman maybe he could keep them all safe. He sighed.

"I can't."

"Why not? Harvey! Why won't you give it a chance?" Ivy demanded, her eyes beginning to yellow as the venom raced through her in time with her anger. Harvey locked eyes with her, this woman who had once tried to kill him and then become his closest friend, the mother of his boy.

"Because you and Thorne are more than what I...we, me and him, more than we...are willing to gamble with," Harvey explained gently, cupping her face in his hands, "if I can protect you, then maybe I will have somehow redeemed myself, even if only in my own eyes."

Ivy stared at him for a moment, understanding Harvey and proud of him suddenly. She let herself fall into his embrace and sobbed heavily despite herself, enfolding her arms around him, knowing it would be the last time she ever did.

"Keep writing to him Harvey," Ivy instructed, "he's going to need you."

He nodded slowly, tightening his grip on her for a moment before letting her go and pulling away. Ivy wiped away her tears, smiling sadly as he began to walk away into the darkness of the night. He turned around quickly and met her gaze.

"Thanks Pam," he said sincerely, "for the years of friendship, for choosing me to be Thorne's father, for everything. For what it's worth, I loved you before I even met Gilda and here we are, still hanging on. I'm glad."

Ivy smiled, the real and genuine smile most people never got to see. She waved as he turned to leave, but was startled by a crashing vase that fell to the ground as Thorne rushed out of the house. She tried to stop him, but at sixteen he was stronger than her and determined.

"Don't go!" he called to Harvey, running towards him. Thorne had never seen his father so close before. Sure, he knew what to expect, he'd heard the stories and seen the newspaper images. But when Harvey Two Face stopped and turned to face him, Thorne stopped in his tracks and stood before his father, eyes wide. Ivy felt her hands clamp around her mouth, knowing how desperately Harvey had never wanted Thorne to see him. But Harvey didn't shy away from their son, in fact he extended his right hand, which Thorne took and shook. It made Ivy smile. But her smile dropped quickly when Thorne reached out his left hand to Two Face, silently demanding a response. And Two Face, without violence or fear, accepted Thorne.

The boy looked up at him with curiousity and an understanding that Harvey had never expected from a child. It pained him to see all too well just how much Thorne was like him, and everything Ivy had told him about his son suddenly came to life. She had been right, Thorne would need him. Thorne was just like him. He could see it now, now that Thorne was not sleeping or photographed as he had had to see him before tonight.

"Look after your mother," Harvey instructed Thorne, "and trust me that one day you'll understand. I swear it."

The boy nodded. For years they had conversed in letters and over the phone. Sometimes Harvey would meet them, but always kept his distance and hid beneath a long brimmed hat that he told Thorne he had stolen from the Joker. Now that he stood so close to his father, Thorne was intrigued, but not frightened, by his horribly scarred face. Harvey began to walk away, his hands tucked in his coat pockets.

"Hey!" Thorne called, prompting his father to look back at him, "it was nice to see you Dad."

Harvey felt a tightening sensation in his chest, a smile creeping onto his lips, a sad regret that he would probably never see Thorne again. He gave his son a slow nod of acknowledgement and walked into the distance, flipping his coin repetitively as he went. Thorne watched until he was gone.

"Mother," Thorne said to Ivy, who had crept behind him and placed her hand gently on his shoulder. She kissed his head and stroked his hair adoringly, proud that Thorne had composed himself so well with Harvey.

"What is it Thorne?" she replied, looking into the darkness where Two Face had disappeared. She knew that if she hurried she could catch up with him, try again to convince him to stay. But she wouldn't. Harvey needed to do this, he needed to know that he had something worth fighting for, that he belonged to something. Ivy wouldn't take that from him.

"I hate the Batman," Thorne hissed. Ivy smiled, wrapping him in her arms and cradling her head on his shoulder. He had grown into such a beautiful young man.

"I know my darling," she whispered, "we all do."


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Three nights of fevered half sleep had left Bruce Wayne exhausted in every faculty. He sat at his desk, rubbing his eyes and trying to focus on the figures that blurred before him. The file was thick, almost as thick as the Joker's. Only this one contained reports and stats on someone he had once called his friend. His dreams had been plagued with memories of Gotham's bright young hopeful, Harvey Dent, the new District Attorney. But Bruce couldn't save him, not from Gotham. This town would take you down before you even had a real chance, and for someone as elevated as Harvey, there had been a long way down to fall. There had always been something a little off with Harvey, even at college. He seemed to struggle with himself at times, sometimes losing to a point where Harvey lost his cool charm only for it to be replaced with a temper that made him seem like someone else entirely. The day Bruce had gone to visit him in hospital after the acid incident in the court room that would leave him forever scarred, he knew his friend was lost somewhere deep inside himself, and that the other Harvey had come to the surface, no doubt inspired by the horrific wounds that had consumed one half of his face. He had personally offered to pay for the corrective plastic surgery, but to his shock and horror, Harvey refused and only a few hours later, had disappeared.

But not for long. His first victim had been Vincent Maroni, the mob boss responsible for pulling Harvey down from his proverbial horse. It was quickly followed by an impressive list of gangster names, like those from the Falcone family. But it didn't stop there, next Harvey went after the judges that had been paid off so many times, the attorneys who had defended Gotham's underground worst, even his own assistant, Vernon Wells, who had betrayed Dent and passed on the acid that would destroy him to Maroni. So many times, it had been televised live, and Gotham City beheld their beloved DA fall into hell. Bruce felt himself shudder as he remembered the first time he saw Harvey shoot someone, cold and precise as it had been he had still hoped that Harvey could be saved. Even now, Bruce still found it difficult to accept that the Harvey Dent he had known and respected died in that court room all those years ago. Too many times he had seen the good man he knew come to the surface, often prompted by kindness, but always short lived. But Harvey was truly gone now. He felt himself remembering the past, knowing that it would hurt, but needing to remember why he had to save Thorne Isely, needing to believe again that he had been doing the right thing, that Barbara was wrong. Harvey had been his friend while Two Face was his enemy, there was never only one way to deal with them. Barbara didn't understand, she had never known Harvey Dent like he had.

It had been today, nine years ago to the very day, that the Bat Signal had graced the skies, but not from the roof of GCPD, from somewhere else. Batman had located the source, a little surprised to discover that the makeshift signal came from the roof of Harvey Dent's old abandoned apartment building. Dent had escaped from Arkham years earlier, broken out by the Joker and Poison Ivy, and never seen again since. Batman had had a good idea why Harvey had called him. As a sign of peace, Two Face had disarmed himself, laying his gun on the ground before Batman. He stood against the light so that only his right side was visible, while the left lay in shadow. Clever, Batman thought, Harvey was appealing to their old friendship. He leant against the building ledge, breathing in the night air.

"I've missed Gotham," he said with a smile, "can you believe that?"

"What do you want Harvey?"

Batman noted the sadness that brushed across Harvey's right eye, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. Two Face laughed, nodding his head reminiscently. Then he had smiled and removed two more small pistols, one from either coat pocket and tossed them to the ground. Reaching back into his left pocket, he removed the coin and rolled it across his knuckles before holding it and staring at both sides respectively. He looked back at Batman.

"I'm turning myself in on one condition," Harvey said in a low voice, letting the Batman know he was dead serious. Batman narrowed his gaze, a little surprised, but not entirely. He had seen the Joker succumb, watched him seal his lips and sink further into madness to protect his daughter – to whom Bruce had been certain there was no personal affection, only a lingering scheme shrouded in his own sense of ego. Batman never thought Two Face would offer anything less, Harvey at least had always been a man of honour before the monster within took him over.

"Leave them be, please," Harvey pleaded, both eyes fixed on Batman and void of any fight, "Ivy and Harley, they are no threat to anyone anymore, let them try again. Give them a chance to make something good - something we could never be out of what we are. Please, we used to be friends, I know I can still trust you."

"Still making inspiring speeches, Dent?" Batman questioned, sceptical. Harvey took one more look at his coin before flipping it. As he went into a second flip, he propelled it towards Batman, who caught it in mid-air. He looked at Harvey for a moment, waiting expectantly for Batman's response. Harvey had surrendered his coin, a statement with more weight to it than any declaration of surrender from Two Face.

"You can trust me Harvey," the Batman had promised, flipping the coin back to him, "and I trust you to keep your word. And your coin."

And that had been that. Batman had sworn to let Pamela and Harley live free and without fear of him before slipping his cuffs onto Harvey Two Face, who put up no resistance as he delivered him to Arkham Asylum one last time. Bruce became aware that he had tears welling in his eyes. He knew that should have been the end of it, that he should have honoured the truce he made that night with Harvey Two Face. But how could he just let two of Arkham's most wanted and deadly inmates run free? He had sworn his life to doing what was right, not making deals with the likes of Harvey Two Face. Bruce wondered if he had done the right thing now, perhaps if he had of honoured the truce, both Harvey and Pamela Isely would still be alive and Thorne would not be an orphan riddled with hatred and anger for their deaths. Maybe Harleen Quinzel would have survived the sickness that plagued her if he'd allowed the Joker to stay with her, knowing that what she suffered was withdrawal after years of exposure to the poisons in his Joker Gas. But these were trying thoughts, the seeds of self-doubt and blame. He had never dragged Poison Ivy or Harley Quinn back to Arkham, but made regular checks on them, reminding them that they were protected by Harvey's truce with him, but always under his watch. He had also gone to great lengths to keep Quinn and Ivy separated, uneasy with their freedom and their children. Batman made it known to them both that the Joker's daughter was not to know Two Face's son and enforced it without restraint. Bruce wondered if perhaps he had terrified Ivy too much, because it was not long before Arkham sent word that Harvey Two Face was demanding to speak with the Batman.

He never went back to see Harvey. Bruce knew now it was the worst mistake he had ever made. After four peaceful years locked away in Arkham, Harvey Two Face and the Joker attempted to escape and settle the score. They didn't get far. Bad timing and bad luck made a deadly mess of everything that night. Just as the Joker was creeping out of the hall where both their cells were located, Batman had hauled in Jonathon Crane, the Scarecrow, and ran straight into him, knocking the Joker to the ground. By this time, the alarms were blaring and Arkham guards came tumbling into the hall. Batman had thrust the Scarecrow at one of them and leapt at the Joker, restraining him quickly and forcing him into a cell. When he had turned around, five guards were piled on Harvey, wrestling him to ground without much luck. Batman saw the rifle lifted and leapt at Harvey, but not soon enough. The rifle fired and blood began to stain his Arkham uniform near the chest. Batman had inspected the wound and demanded that someone alert the medics. Harvey was breathing irregularly, scratching his fingers against Batman violently.

"You! You broke our deal!" he hissed. Batman locked eyes with his old friend, tilting his head to look back at him. His eyes were bloodshot, it would be slow and painful.

"Harvey listen to me," Batman said to him severely, "you're going to die. Do you understand Harvey? There's nothing that can save you. Tell me what you want, tell me now and I'll do it."

Two Face seemed to calm somewhat, it broke Bruce's heart to see Harvey registering what was happening, thinking desperately. He saw his fingers flutter over the wound and the sudden wave of pain that darkened his face even more.

"You were too late again, that's twice you owe me," Harvey whispered to Batman, "Thorne...I want to see him."

Batman had nodded and left Harvey with the medics before racing against time to Ivy and explaining why she had to let him take Thorne to Harvey. Only Batman could get him there quick enough. Ivy agreed, the sorrow already tainting her beautiful face. Batman saw her pleading eyes but there was nothing he could do. If Ivy went to Arkham, she would not be leaving…Batman was not above the law, GCPD would arrest her on sight. So she hurried to her green room and snipped some leaves and a rose, wrapping them carefully and handing them to Thorne.

"Leaves for the pain, put them in water and make him drink it," Ivy instructed, "the rose...if it gets too bad for him Thorne, you know what to do."

The boy nodded, gulping down the lump in his throat as his eyes registered the ingredients his mother had given him and their intended purposes. Ivy kissed his cheek and gestured to the Batman. Thorne was unsure, but his mother insisted. Batman opened the roof of the Bat-mobile and ushered him in. Ivy walked into the house quickly, and as Batman entered the Bat-mobile, he heard her scream her grief.

"I told you to flip for it, damn you!" she cried.

As he raced through the streets of Gotham, Batman couldn't help but sense the resentment oozing off Thorne. He knew the boy was probably well versed in the history of the Batman and his parents, confused as to why Ivy had trusted him now but grateful. The boy had tears streaming down his face. His father was going to die. That's when he spoke the words that Bruce had never forgotten.

"You killed him, didn't you? This is your fault."

Batman hadn't answered. Sitting at his desk now years later, wiping the tears from his cheeks with clenched fists, Bruce Wayne had only one thought. He wished more than anything that that day he knew how to justify himself to Harvey's son, to Thorne Isely. But the truth was, even now, he didn't know how.


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The music buzzed with an exhilarating freedom, acidic bass as distorted as Thorne's thoughts, anarchy beating on Jay-Jay's soul harder than the pounding rhythms. Something had happened to them since that moment. It made Thorne feel deeper, darker, meaner. He liked it. Jay-Jay had been completely consumed by her rapture, no wonder the Joker was adamant that they take the night off and hit the town. He'd been more than pleased with their work. At first, the punks and degenerates had frightened Thorne, he'd never come to this side of town before, but Jay-Jay insisted. He soon realised that they paid no more attention to him than they wanted in return. This suited Thorne just fine.

Jay-Jay had him by the arm, eagerly pushing her way towards the band. They had both killed today, one each and one to share, the shared victim being a cop. Jay-Jay had lured him into a dark alley way and Thorne had shot him twice right between the eyes. They had stripped the corpse and stolen his prison van before driving right up to the gates of Arkham and presenting their forged prisoner transfer authorization to the chief doctor on duty. Within the hour, they had driven away with the Joker tucked safely inside their vehicle. It had conjured a flame of excitement inside Jay-Jay and she had wanted to dance. The Joker had settled himself into Thorne's apartment, trying on his clothes and shoes in odd combinations, and insisted that he would be fine for a few hours. Without a moment more hesitation, Thorne consented to Jay-Jay's request.

She had shed her bloody clothes – Jay-Jay had delighted in detailing her solo accomplishment – and traded them for something a little less incriminating. She had dressed to kill, but this time Thorne was evidently the intended victim. Purple pinstripe – a Joker favourite – draped her body carelessly, the dress held in place by black leather buckles at the waist. Her arms were wrapped in torn fishnet gloves to the elbows, leaving her shoulders and clown tattoos exposed. Thorne let his eyes soak up her pale flesh hungrily, distracted from his curiousity as the Joker cut holes in a pair of socks and rolled them over his hands as gloves. Jay-Jay grasped Thorne's hand and dragged him into his room, joining her father in the rummage through his clothing. She tossed him a pair of black jeans, a white button up shirt, and a black vest.

"Put these on," she instructed, "and mess up your hair a bit."

Thorne had complied, slightly confused by the way the Joker smiled at him. He waved after a moment, twinkling his long fingers and beaming even harder than usual. Thorne smiled uncertainly, and was relieved when the Joker went back to his sock gloves and dressing up.

Now, Thorne stood by Jay-Jay as she threw herself around wildly to the fractured delirium of the music. Her eyes were closed, the biggest smile painted carefully on her lips and tinged with blood red lipstick. Her hands twisted and writhed in the air as her hips swayed and rolled to the music, and Thorne wanted more than anything to squeeze the subtle but strong muscle that moved in her stocking clad thigh as she stomped and danced. He thought about it for a moment and decided against taking the liberty, cautious of her spontaneous bursts of violence, knowing that the savage boots she wore were not for show. Jay-Jay threw her arms around his neck, her hips still moving slowly as a less rambunctious song was played. In the darkness, Thorne could see her yellowish eyes sparkle with something he thought should have disturbed him more than it did. The lights flashed in the darkness, alternating from green to blue, and each time he saw a different half of himself reflected in her eyes. He was sick of fighting it, he didn't want to fight it. She didn't want him to fight it either. It was part of him, who he was. So he let it go and held her tightly, greedily, against himself. Jay-Jay didn't seem to mind, her harlequin painted eyes were closed and she was smiling as she listened to the music.

"We did it Thorne," she whispered in his ear, biting into her bottom lip with a smile as he viciously kissed her neck, "we're the bad guys, the villains now. We're free."

* * *

(_1. A Few Hours Earlier...Gotham City Zoo…_)

Since returning to Gotham, Jay-Jay Quinzel had re-acquainted herself with the zoo she had loved since childhood. She was an animal psychologist, specialising in the predatory behaviour of large mammals. Her favourite was the grizzly bear, though she could never explain why, and Gotham City Zoo had four of them exhibited together in a single habitat enclosure. She hadn't really planned to do it the way she did, her father had taught her to never plan anything to precisely, because 'freestyle was an important skill for all comedians to master'. But when she arrived after hours that night to check on a newly arrived pair of lions, the opportunity simply presented itself in a manner she couldn't resist.

The security guard on patrol had been an object of her annoyance and disgust for a few weeks now. The moment she saw the man puffing away on a cigarette and slouched lazily by the bear enclosure, she knew he was the one. Putting on her most charming smile, Jay-Jay approached and unlocked the side door where the bear holding room was. She entered and began making struggling noises coupled with a few daintily placed curses. Suddenly, she reappeared, charming smile and all.

"Could you give me a hand with this bear feed?" she asked sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes, "it's really a job for a strong man, not just little ol' me."

As expected, the guard rose and followed her into the room. He looked around, but there was nothing within, and turned to her questioningly. Jay-Jay smiled, savouring the anticipation. The guard seemed slightly shocked when she slammed the door closed, leaning against it and jangling the keys in her hand.

"What's going on?" he asked, suspicion in his voice. Jay-Jay strategically turned her gaze to the floor then back up to look at him, a wicked smile complimenting the sparkle in her eyes. The guard's expression changed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. A filthy grin wiped across his smug face and Jay-Jay realised suddenly what the Joker had meant by using the smile to conceal your disgust. The guard stepped towards her.

"Oh, I understand," he said, leaning over her with one hand against the door, "loud and clear toots."

Jay-Jay took the cue and threw herself at him, pressing herself against him and delivering a kiss that she thought Poison Ivy would have been mighty proud of. She thought about what she had to do, where she needed him, what would happen, and it made it so much easier to giggle and move as the oaf squeezed her backside and drooled all over her. She carefully unbuckled his belt, the one that held his security gear, and smiled when she heard it drop to the ground. Carefully, she manoeuvred him until he stood with his back against the hatch. Curtain call, go out with a bang, she knew the rules.

"Ready?" she asked him in her most sultry voice. The guard grinned moronically.

"Oh yeah," he said enthusiastically, not quite believing his luck. Jay-Jay let her hands slide down the sides of his body as she fell to her knees and knelt before him. She unzipped his pants first, to make it believable, then let her hand carefully unlatch the lock at the bottom of the door. The guard was fumbling around the crotch of his trousers and Jay-Jay sneered with disgust. She rose, grabbing his tie and pressing herself lightly against him.

"You know," she chuckled, "it was pretty stupid to let me take all your gear. But look on the bright side, you got screwed anyway!"

And with that very statement, Jay-Jay pushed her weight against him, forcing him against the unlatched door to the bear enclosure. She heard him scream as he fell the four metre drop into the pen, slamming the door shut and locking it. The guard looked up at her, terror in his eyes, cursing and hollering.

"Ooooh I wouldn't do that if I were you," she warned into the enclosure speaker, "bears don't like it when humans make a fuss."

It didn't take long. Once she started coaxing the animals over with honey sandwiches, they quickly became interested in the moving meat meal. Jay-Jay waved from the clear plastic window as her favourite predators ripped the guard to pieces and began to eat him alive. The screams and shrieks thrilled her, the blood was hypnotic. Jay-Jay sighed, wondering what Thorne was up to, before carefully tossing the guards belt into the enclosure, collecting one of his kidneys as a memento, and planting a suicide note. It wouldn't hold, she knew, but it was funny anyway.

* * *

(_2. A Few Hours Earlier...Isely Gardens…_)

Thorne had painstakingly hunted her down. It hadn't been hard, Gotham's most elite citizens advertised themselves shamelessly and without reservation. He had wanted her for this, her words at the Gotham Ball had stung him and he wanted to beat her to death when she had spoken them, now there was no Dick Grayson or Bruce Wayne to stop him. The woman sat tied into a wooden chair, bound and gagged, her eyes darting back and forth frantically and filled with fear.

"An abomination of nature..." Thorne whispered to the silver haired woman, repeating her fateful words, "do you even know what nature is, my dear?"

She made a noise that Thorne decided wasn't worth removing the gag for. He walked back and forth along the rows of plants in his greenhouse, brushing his fingertips gently over their leaves as he went, feeling them quiver in response to his touch. His father's gun and coin sat on the work bench near the woman, Thorne had decided to save them for later. He was defending his mother now, it seemed only right to use the plants she had created.

"The law of nature is not like the law of men," he explained to her, "nature is incorruptible. Survival of the fittest, not the richest."

The woman's eyes widened as Thorne made a simple gesture and a pair of vines slithered like snakes along the ground towards her. She began to plead and panic, desperate squeaks escaping from behind the gag. It made Thorne smile. He began to laugh as the woman struggled against her bonds, tears spilling onto her cheeks. The vines wound their way up her legs, across her waist and wrists, and finally coiling around her throat. Thorne was silent suddenly, leaning close to the frantic woman.

"All your dignity, all your wealth, it means nothing now," he taunted her, "nature knows how to deal with abominations, here, let them show you."

Thorne clicked his fingers and the vines immediately reacted, constricting around the woman's throat. She gurgled and gasped for a few seconds, but the vines worked quickly, tightening their deadly grip. The woman's face reddened then turned a deep shade of blue, her eyes bulging from the socket, still pleading desperately in their silent way. Thorne heard her collarbone snap, followed by the crunches and snaps as her arms and legs were broken in turn, snapping the wood of the chair. He was intrigued by the tiny red blood vessels that darkened, quivered, and exploded in the white of her eyes. The greenhouse seemed to sing suddenly with that strange voice that emanates from plants when the wind brushes their leaves. Thorne watched, expressionless, as the vines tightened one last time. He heard the dry snaps, her spine and neck broken, and watched the last hint of life flicker from her devastated eyes. He leant close to her face, looking into those eyes.

"Don't anger Mother Nature," he whispered, "or her son."


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Escaped. Missing. Where-abouts unknown. The words seemed to burn themselves into Bruce's tired eyes as he read the report that had been forwarded to him from Arkham Asylum. The Joker had been gone for three days before anyone knew he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Glancing at Barbara, he saw the same expression of anxious determination he imagined stained onto his own face. She punched the keys of her computer furiously, chasing every lead and searching every Joker haunt that still stood in Gotham. Dick had convinced Tim Drake to costume up and comb the city with him. It was full alert like Bruce hadn't seen for years. Barbara slammed her fist into the keypad before releasing a frustrated sigh and looking him dead in the eye.

"Send Nightwing to Quinzel's apartment," Barbara implored him again, "you know that's where she has him!"

Bruce shook his head, eyes stern and mouth turned into the same firm frown he had worn every night of his vigilante career. He could see Barbara tense with frustration and anger, her eyes questioning him like never before.

"It's too obvious," Bruce explained, "she'd know we'd look there first."

Barbara nodded slightly in agreement, but her hands flew into the air and landed with a loud slap on her thighs. She couldn't feel the force with which she hit them, Bruce knew from the sound that she had bruised herself. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, exhausted from a sleepless night and the following day of relentless searching.

"Then check Isely's home," she suggested flatly, a tinge of spite in her voice, "you can't keep protecting him Bruce, first he starts associating with Quinzel and then the Joker disappears from Arkham. He's a suspect and a very valid lead. Whether you like it or not."

He knew she was right. But before he could answer, Nightwing and Robin had entered the cave, the roar of the Bat-mobile deafening as it grinded to a halt. When they stepped out, the pallid visage of Robin and the grim expression on Nightwing's masked face told him it was bad.

"Well?" Bruce demanded impatiently. Tim had torn his mask from his face and sat with his head in his hands. Nightwing took a breath and met the stare of his mentor, shaking his head in disbelief and disgust. Bruce looked to Robin and back to Dick questioningly before Dick finally spoke.

"Gotham Zoo...god Bruce, she fed a guy to them," he choked, pulling off his mask, "there was blood everywhere, but not much else once the bears were through eating him."

Barbara stared at him, eyes wide and mouth gaping. For a moment, Dick thought he saw Bruce actually gasp, but the firmness of his features covered it quickly. He sighed, looking to the floor briefly before turning back to the screen that displayed the Joker's file in all its maniacal glory.

"And Thorne Isely?" Bruce asked. He heard Dick shuffle his boot against the stony gravel of the Cave floor. He cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. Bruce turned and saw him struggling to find the words. Tim was looking to him, as was Barbara, they knew that Dick had to deliver something that Bruce didn't want to accept.

"Bruce, look, I know you and Harvey Dent were friends once upon a time," Dick began uncomfortably, "but you can't let that get in the way...he killed a woman Bruce, he strangled her to death with...with plants. There aren't many people who can do that Bruce, I fact since Poison Ivy died, there's only one. Thorne Isely."

Bruce glared at Dick for a brief moment before turning away and flopping in his chair, hand massaging the coming migraine. He looked frighteningly frail suddenly, and Dick felt strangely alone, something he hadn't really felt since his family was murdered. Barbara pushed her chair over to Bruce and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Confirm beyond a fraction of doubt that it was them, and check Isely's apartment for any sign of the Joker," Bruce instructed, "when you have proof, deliver it to GCPD immediately and make it clear that the Joker has accomplices that should be considered just as dangerous as he is."

Dick gave a swift nod, made a stop signal at Tim who had gotten to his feet, and climbed into the Bat-mobile alone. With a quick roar and a flash of flame, he was gone. Bruce looked at Barbara, her eyes were sad and sympathetic. He frowned slightly, hating the weakness of his age.

"The Joker, Two Face, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn, all back on the street in fresh, young wrappings," Bruce mused in his dark way, "and none of us what we used to be."

Barbara smiled sadly, her eyes turning a strange dark grey.

"That's what you think," she said, before pushing herself away with a secretive grin. Then she brought up the screen and Bruce was suddenly amazed that he had ever doubted Oracle, Barbara Gordon, since she had – as always – been ready for anything. Even this.


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Bruce had always known about Oracle's elite squad of female vigilante's, the team known only as the Birds Of Prey. But he had never imagined that they had been ready for this. Led by Oracle, the team consisted of her two primary field leaders, the turbulent and deadly Huntress and Barbara's dearest friend, the Black Canary. Others had come and gone, even Barbara's Batgirl replacement Cassandra Cain had worked with them. But like Barbara, Bruce and Dick, the Birds Of Prey had faced the inevitable force of vigilante retirement – age. With it came reduced speed and endurance, slower reaction times, and the call of a normal life. But just as Dinah Lance had given in to the call of a normal life, she had ensured that the legacy of the Black Canary lived on when she adopted and personally trained her daughter Sin. Now highly skilled in multiple techniques of martial arts like her mother and well versed in the careful tuition of Oracle, Sin had grown into everything the Birds Of Prey had been in one formidable package. But she was not alone. Helena Burtinelli had – with the assistance of Barbara – gone to great lengths to hide her illegitimate son from the world of the Huntress. That hadn't stopped Helena from teaching young Jet everything she knew. Soon, she and Barbara had convinced Nightwing to provide the boy with the same training he had received from his mentor, and Jet proved to be an outstanding student. After only a few short years, he was a formidable opponent not unlike Batman himself.

Now, Bruce read over their training progress reports, watched the footage of their field work, admired the precision and skill that had been embedded in both Sin and Jet. Suddenly, the hopelessness he felt began to ebb away, replaced by a sense of pride in his protégé. He met Barbara's eyes and smiled warmly.

"You've done well," he said in his low, gruff voice, "your father would be proud. I'm proud."

Barbara couldn't hold back the smile, even when Bruce coughed uncomfortably and turned away, changing the subject. It was the most she or anyone could ever expect from the Dark Knight and it meant everything to her. Bruce was talking with Tim, the Robin he had successfully adopted as his own son, and Barbara knew he was demanding that Tim turn in his costume.

"It's not our time anymore," Bruce explained gently, "but perhaps..."

Tim's eyes lifted hopefully, even as he passed his mask to Bruce. Like Barbara and Dick, Tim had loved the work. He was still spritely enough to continue, but both he and Barbara knew why Bruce could not allow it. The Joker knew who they were.

"Perhaps?" Tim asked eagerly, hoping that somehow he would not have to give up the only thing he really loved. Bruce gazed at him for a few moments before turning to Barbara, who watched him with curiousity. She suddenly registered the same thoughts her mentor was pondering and smiled in agreement. He nodded once at her, recognizing her approval and turned back to Tim.

"Perhaps Oracle could use an extra pair of hands leading the new team."

Tim's eyes brightened, he could barely contain his excitement. He sprung over to Barbara in a single graceful bound, something only a Robin could do flawlessly, and locked her in a tight embrace. He had dreamt of working side by side with Oracle since she had taken on the role, even helped her out from time to time when Robin was not needed in the field. For Tim, it was a dream come true.

"Thank you Babs, thank you so much," he babbled happily, "I won't let you down."

"I know you won't," she replied, patting his shoulder gently, "so let's get to work, huh?"

Tim nodded and took his place at the computer beside her, tapping away at the keys furiously. He knew what to do, basic protocol and procedure, he had done it countless times before. A subtle smile had appeared on Bruce's lips as he silently gave his thanks to Barbara Gordon and, handing over the reign's of control to her, accepted that Batman was finally no more.

* * *

The Joker had been sitting in an armchair, the lights switched off, just waiting. Nightwing didn't even see him as he searched Thorne Isely's apartment in stealth, leaving no box unopened, no document unread. He found nothing, no clue to the whereabouts of the man that sat quietly in the shadows watching him. He felt defeated as he perched on the balcony railing, preparing to leap into the city below. But before he did, the Joker spoke.

"Hello little Dickie bird, long time no see."

Nightwing leapt onto the balcony, crouching and scanning the blackened apartment that now echoed with the same sinister laughter that had haunted his dreams for so many years. He had never believed he would ever face it again. He shuddered to think that Jet, Helena's son whom he had trained for years, would be cursed to face it too. Suddenly, Nightwing caught the slick shine of the Joker's eyes in the far corner, glaring straight at him.

"Not long enough Joker," Nightwing replied, edging closer, "I'm taking you back to Arkham." The Joker cackled.

"So soon? But think of all the fun we'll be missing! By the way, how's Batgirl? Still the third wheel of the Bat family?! Ahahaha!"

It was a sick joke that made Nightwing clench his fists and teeth, fighting to control his anger. Some things would never change, apparently the Joker was one of them. He swallowed the hate he felt and cautiously approached the Clown Prince.

"You're too old, just let it go and come quietly," Nightwing reasoned, knowing it wouldn't work. No one could reason with the Joker. He was met with peels of mocking giggles. The yellow eyes fixed on Nightwing again, just as vicious and malevolent as they had ever been.

"But there are so many old friends I haven't visited yet! Like dear little Timothy and of course Barbara and yourself. Not to mention my very best chum in the whole world, Brucie. Heheh haha! Besides," the Joker continued with an elaborate hand gesture filled with melodrama, "I don't think _she_'s going to let you take me anywhere."

Before Nightwing could register what the Joker meant, he felt the force of a heavy leather boot connect with his stomach. He fell to his knees, winded by the unexpected blow, and took three more to the face. The fourth almost made it too, but he grasped Jay-Jay's foot and spun it, flipping her to the ground.

"You need practise kid," Nightwing scoffed as he hauled himself off the ground. He heard the click before he saw anything, but the sound of a cocked pistol was unmistakable, as was the coolness of the metal against the back of his head.

"But I don't."

Thorne ordered Nightwing back onto his knees, much to the Joker's delight. He clapped his hands and chuckled at the spectacle before him. Jay-Jay crawled over to Nightwing and tore the mask from his eyes. She threw it to the ground before delivering a punishing slap to his right cheek, one that left three deep scratches on his otherwise perfect face.

"Dick Grayson," she spat, "let's clip those wings, shall we?"

* * *

Barbara answered the incoming call from the Nightwing communicator. Bruce had been dozing in his chair, exhausted, but woke when the bleeping sound went off. Tim had been rubbing his eyes for hours, but powered on with determination. When she answered, the fear hit her like a tonne of bricks.

"Knock, knock..." came the voice. Her heart pounded violently in her chest. Her expression told Bruce exactly who was on the other end of the receiver.

"Who's there?" Barbara responded cautiously.

"Batman!"

"Batman who?" Barbara pushed the button that transferred the communicator signal to the loud speaker so Bruce and Tim could hear. The voice was the same, only slightly more resolved after years of isolation in Arkham Asylum. Bruce looked older, more tired, more defeated than ever before.

"Batman who? Hahahaha! Why, if I told you, I'd have to kill you - again! Or at least Dickie here, say hello Nightwing!"

Barbara began to cry silently, tearlessly, as the Joker forced Dick to make some kind of sound by kicking him savagely. Bruce saw every blow on her face. They listened as Dick groaned incoherently. Bruce took the communicator from Barbara.

"What do you want?"

"Batsy! Is it really you?" the Joker chimed gleefully, "oh I've missed you! Guess what I've been doing at Arkham, can you I wonder? How about a clue? Yes?"

The Joker's jolly tone soured quickly like milk left in the hot sun. His words came vicious and malevolent, one after the other.

"Not. Very. Much."

Bruce knew, as the Joker's aggression became more pronounced, that Dick's life hung on by a thread. One wrong word and he would slaughter him without a second thought. Just like he had with Jason Todd. The Joker wanted his attention, and Bruce had no choice but to give it to him.

"Where are you, I'll come to you," Bruce said. He was met with giggles and snickers. The Joker was playing with him and he knew it.

"But Brucie, I already know where you are! By the way, have you met my daughter? Daddy's little girl is all grown up and headed towards Wayne Manor right now, and I believe with a very, very, VERY unhappy Doctor Isely...that boy needs to turn his frown upside down. But you and I know all too well that humour was never really Harvey or Red's forte either! Hahahaha!"

Bruce signalled for lockdown and Tim was on it immediately. Within seconds, the Cave had been completely sealed off from Wayne Manor by lead security doors. Barbara had already hooked the communicator to the computer and had begun to trace the frequency.

"Let Nightwing go, it's me you want," Bruce demanded, no sign of desperation or fear in his voice. There was a brief silence. The Joker was losing focus, growing bored. Next he would become impatient and then furious before erupting into a fit of senseless violence before returning to his jesterly self. Dick was in grave danger now.

"You took them all Batman, after I let you get me, you took them all! My diamonds, my clubs, my spades…my hearts. What kind of Clown-Prince would I be without my Court of rogues? I'm the king of Arkham, me!" the Joker growled fiercely, "now I'm going to take away each and every one of your little family too. One by one. Or maybe, just for ol' Harv, I'll do it two by two. Ahhahahahahahaaa!"

And with that, the Joker was gone. Barbara confirmed the trace, he was at Thorne's apartment. Bruce shook his head, his face dark and stern. Two by two, the Joker had said. The Joker never said anything like that without good reason. He always left a hint.

"They'll be gone long before we get there," Bruce said, still thinking, "two by two..."

He had it.

"Tim – get every known address for Harvey Two Face in Gotham, hideouts, apartments, everything. Babs – rally your troops, he's going to have Jay-Jay and Thorne hunt everyone associated with Batman while he comes for me. I don't think the Joker has counted on opposition for his prize though."

"Opposition?" Tim asked, "from who?"

Bruce and Barbara locked eyes.

"Thorne Isely."


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

There was a shimmer of something menacing in his eyes, it robbed her of words, so she remained silent. He took the corners sharper than she would have, unless of course she were in the same rage he was right now. Jay-Jay wanted to believe that Thorne would finally get his revenge at Wayne Manor, but she knew her father better than that. Batman was his, not Thorne's. Even so, his resolve was something deep and dark that did not include her, and she could not help but feel somewhat alone as they made their way to the home of Bruce Wayne. The great mansion loomed on the horizon before them, dark and foreboding. How it angered Jay-Jay that the Batman lived such a privileged life, born with a silver spoon in his mouth. What did Bruce Wayne know of hardship? So his parents were murdered before his eight year old eyes, the same tale could be told by millions, yet none of them had taken to the streets in self-righteous glory to deliver vigilante justice to the scum of humankind.

Scum like the Joker and Poison Ivy. Like Harvey Dent and Harley Quinn. They hadn't been born so privileged. They had slugged it out the hard way and resorted to the only means of achieving their deserved level acclaim: crime and terrorism. It made Jay-Jay proud to know that despite the Batman's billions and all the high tech fancy gadgets they armed him with, her penniless, rag-tag father still put him in his place. She let her hand brush Thorne's cheek as she slipped her arm around him with a smile.

"I think he's already terrified," she chuckled, "I can smell his fear from here."

Thorne grinned slightly, amused, but his eyes did not change. They merely stayed fixed to the road and Wayne Manor, glimmering with the monster within that demanded blood. For the life of him, he could not recall why he ever struggled against it, fought it off with all his might. It felt so much better to just co-exist! He felt in control and powerful, but remained intelligent and mysteriously beautiful. He would have Wayne's blood to satisfy him, and if he did not get it then he would take the Joker as a consolation prize, for it would only be the Clown Prince that denied him the Batman. As he pondered these things, a tightness grew deep in his chest that made him uneasy. If it came to that, him and the Joker, she would leave his side forever. He wondered if that is what his mother would have wanted. She had never approved of the Joker, but she had loved Harley Quinn dearly. Would Ivy have expected him to avenge Two Face, even if it meant being alone, possibly imprisoned, even dead? Or would she have wanted him to simply be happy, to let the past be a burden of her own and Harvey's, and not of their son? When it came to the mind of Pamela Isely, even Thorne found it hard to tell. He glanced at Jay-Jay, her blonde curls blowing in the wind as he sped up the dirt roads that led to the gates of Wayne Manor. She was so beautiful, so lively and intelligent, he had barely been apart from her since they first met. The realisation crept over him like a dark shadow over the land as storm clouds erupt in the sky. He loved her.

"I can't," he choked softly, slowing the car to a halt. He turned and cupped her face in his hands, staring straight into her shocked and confused eyes. With a jagged breath, he tried to speak, but no words would come. So he kissed her instead, wrapping her in his vine-like embrace until she insisted he let her go. She slapped him roughly before staring at him in sheer confusion.

"Can't what?" she asked, her eyes searching him.

Thorne sighed, shaking his head to dismiss her question. He reached behind him and pulled out the double barrelled gun and loaded it with a series of crisp clicks. He knew what he had to do, he had always known, and he would do it no matter what the cost.

"I can't explain to you now," he said in a low tone, "but I will when this is over."

He stroked her pale cheek with his thumb and tried not to be swayed by her concerned smile. Nothing must change his mind or make him doubt himself, not now. He couldn't afford to have the conflicts of interest that had plagued his father, no, he had to make right what had been done to Harvey Dent. Restore the balance...justice served and dealt swiftly. Thorne simply grinned at Jay-Jay and started the engine.

"Knock, knock Bats," Thorne sang mockingly as they began to move forward again. Jay-Jay giggled and clapped her hands with excitement before loading her own gun and sliding it into place alongside a vicious serrated edge dagger in her belt.

"Friends of the family have come to visit!"

* * *

The Joker ran his fingers over the hair in his palm, carefully separating each strand before plucking it. He sat cross legged on the cold floor, nursing Nightwing's head in his lap, petting and stroking his hair obsessively. Nightwing lay limp, unconscious to the sharp pain in his scalp as the Joker examined his dark hair.

"Ah Dickie bird, the times we had," the Joker mused softly, "you were always my favourite bird boy. But then you just had to grow up and fly away from the Bat, didn't you. Not many could tell that it was a different Robin, but I sure could, you can't fool me. I knew every move you had, swifter and faster, more agile than that blundering boy who took your place. But when I saw you again, all grown up and dressed in black just like ol‟ daddy Bat, I knew it was you Robin. Nightwing. Even little Timmy didn't compare!"

Nightwing groaned, his head pounding and his vision blurred. He could hear the Jokers voice, knew they were alone, but there was nothing he could do. His limbs were paralysed and he could barely see. He felt the clammy hands of the Joker caress his face every so often, it sickened and repulsed him. All he could do was lie still and wait, hoping that Bruce or Barbara would send someone soon. No, Bruce! Barbara! Nightwing began to remember with a panic. He had to save them! Bruce couldn't fight anymore and Babs was no match for two of them in that chair! Maybe with Tim, he thought, they'd have a chance, maybe. But he was on his own. He'd have to get out of here himself. But with these very thoughts, Dick's heart sank as he realised he had been mumbling them aloud in his delirium.

"Ah Nightwing, my delicate Robin transformed into a hero!" giggled the Joker, pulling at Dick's hair roughly, "I know you can hear me and you're not going anywhere."

* * *

Bruce had waited in his office at Wayne Manor. Looking out of the huge, double story windows he had seen the stolen car speed towards him, crashing violently through the closed gates and screeching to a halt at the oak doors of the mansion. There was no way he was going to hide in the Cave, not this time. Barbara was right, he needed to understand Thorne, he even needed to understand Jay-Jay Quinzel. If he didn't, they would win. They and the Joker would take everything and everyone he loved from him one by one. Bruce knew it would probably mean the end of his life, but perhaps it could be his last noble deed by saving Barbara, Dick and Tim. Now, he stood firm and strong as always, staring down the twin barrels of Harvey's shot gun. Thorne's eyes were fixed on him, emerald green and swimming with venom, his dark hair splayed across one side of his face, filling Bruce with nostalgic memories of Ivy and Two Face. He sighed, having no answer for Thorne.

"I'll ask you a second and final time Bruce," Thorne explained in a voice that was sure and strong, but steadily losing patience, "what gave you the right?"

Jay-Jay was perched on his desk, legs crossed and delighting in the show. Bruce couldn't help but remember the brief partnership of Two Face and Harley Quinn that quickly fell to pieces because Quinn hadn't counted on Two Face being just as ruthless as the Joker. Thorne was waiting.

"I have no answer to give you that would ease your pain," Bruce said, "only the honest declaration that Harvey Dent was my friend and that I respected the law he fought so hard to defend. We worked together before his accident and we believed in one another. I did what I felt _Harvey_ would have expected of me, _not Two Face_."

Thorne sneered. It was a better answer than he had anticipated the Batman would give, but it mattered little. He knew his father better than Bruce Wayne ever would.

"I know what Harvey Dent would have wanted," Thorne claimed, teeth clenched as he held back his hatred, "for Ivy to be left alone. Instead you and your kind hunted her like a pack of hounds after a vixen and her cub. You took everything from her bit by bit until she withered away to nothing!"

Their eyes were locked. Bruce offered no apology and no condemnation, remaining silent as the Batman always had. Thorne looked deep into this old man before him, the man to whom he owed so much, seeing only the betrayal he felt. Bruce had never given him anything that could sway the balance of what Batman had taken. He raised the gun slightly, taking aim.

"Take no comfort in my mercy Bruce," Thorne promised him, "for I will destroy every member of your family as you have mine."

Jay-Jay held her breath, waiting for Thorne to squeeze the trigger and do away with the Batman forever. In her heart, she wanted it to be Thorne, not the Joker, who spilled Batman's blood. Her father had had plenty of chances before, he had never lost as much as she and especially Thorne had at the hands of the Dark Knight. She felt a pang of guilt at this thought, as though she had betrayed the Joker somehow. Perhaps it was that thought or her fixed attention on beautiful Thorne that made her miss that split second when the Batman decided to move.

Bruce lunged forward with what little strength he had left, grasping Thorne's wrist and lifting his arm as he pulled him to the ground. The gun fired into the air. Jay-Jay leapt off the desk, pulling her dagger from the belt and with a single swift movement sunk it into the flesh of Bruce Wayne's left side, just under the rib cage. He rolled onto the ground, groaning in agony, releasing Thorne. Jay-Jay knelt over him and slowly twisted the dagger slightly. She leant down, her lips brushing Bruce's ear.

"I didn't miss Batsy," she explained, "I'm not the one who's going to kill you. That much I can promise you."

Jay-Jay stepped over Bruce's writhing body. She put out her hand to Thorne and pulled him to his feet. Savagely, he sunk his boot deep into Bruce's ribs, causing the wound to bleed even more.

"Dirty trick Wayne," he hissed, taking his gun from Jay-Jay as she handed it to him. He took hold of her wrist and pulled her close against him, looking down at her beaming face.

"Shall we take him home to Daddy then?" Thorne suggested. Jay-Jay's eyes widened with surprise. Was Thorne giving up Batman to the Joker? It couldn't be! Surely he wouldn't.

"But Thorne, don't you want him?" she asked, "I won't stop you if that's what you want."

Thorne put his finger on her lips and shook his head. He had been wrong to doubt Jay-Jay – had she tried to stop him from killing Batman, he'd have killed her himself. The Joker's wrath meant nothing to him anymore, if he didn't have his vengeance and her both, he'd be just as happy to die. Well, Thorne thought, he wouldn't be wrong about her a second time. The Joker could have the Batman so long as Thorne could have _his_ Poppet.

"Let's go," he whispered quietly.

"In a minute," Jay-Jay promised, "I want to find that Bat Cave first. You might not want the Batman, but I'd still like a piece of Batgirl."

No sooner had Jay-Jay spoken, the grandfather clock in Bruce Wayne's office slid to the side and a woman with fiery red hair appeared, rolling forward in her motorized wheelchair and holding an iron pipe rod in her fist.

"Come and get it, then!" Barbara spat, determined not to let her mentor and friend be taken to the Joker. Jay-Jay stifled a laugh, amused by the challenge. She walked a wide semi-circle around Barbara Gordon, delighted that her smile sparked some recollection of pain in the former Batgirl.

"Daddy's handy work, no?" Jay-Jay asked cheekily, gesturing at Barbara's wheels, "tell me, how exactly does it feel to be shot in the spine?"

Without a word, Barbara hurled a batarang that flew over Jay-Jay's shoulder before turning direction and striking her in the back. Jay-Jay fell to the ground and as she did so, Barbara lunged forward and struck her twice with the iron rod.

"A bit like that, actually," she said between clenched teeth, grappling with the Clown Princess. Neither Thorne nor Jay-Jay had anticipated that Barbara Gordon would be such an adversary, but her paralysis had not hindered her completely. Babs was a formidable hand to hand combatant and she showed no mercy to the Joker's daughter. Even so, Jay-Jay Quinzel was not defenceless. She quickly regained her senses and struck twice with her elbow into Barbara's stomach, gaining the upper ground on her adversary. Jay-Jay shoved Barbara off her enough to free herself before taking hold of a clump of red hair and slamming her knee into Barbara's head. Dazed, she crawled on her arms towards her chair, legs dragging behind her. Jay-Jay was on her feet with the iron rod in hand.

"To be continued," she said in jagged breathes, "since it seems you're not so crippled after all, next time I won't give you a head start."

With that Jay-Jay struck Barbara Gordon hard across the back of the head, knocking her to the ground, unconscious. Bruce murmured something indecipherable as Barbara fell, but was silenced by a sharp blow from Thorne's fist.

"Come on Jay, we have to go now," he urged, pretending not to be either impressed or worried by her struggle with Batgirl. Jay-Jay wiped the blood from her mouth with a clenched fist, a crimson smear forming over her lips. She saw Thorne's smile and knew how she must look.

"Shut up or I'll shoot you," she promised, lifting Bruce Wayne's arm over her shoulder, "help me with the Bat."

Together, they hauled Bruce into the car and covered him with rags. Thorne took one rag and poured a bottle of whiskey over it, soaking it. He wedged it into another bottle of alcohol and struck a match, lighting the rag. Jay-Jay had already emptied two drums of gasoline in various rooms around Wayne Manor and as Thorne hurled the flaming bottle into the main hall, she casually slipped on a pair of sunglasses.

KABOOM!

The explosion was big and bright, just as she had predicted. Wayne Manor was in flames, Barbara Gordon lay unconscious and the Batman was tucked safely in their trunk. As they sped away towards Gotham City and the setting sun, Jay-Jay knew it was only the beginning of a long night. She didn't believe that Thorne would simply hand Batman over to the Joker. But whatever he had in mind, she was sure he had underestimated her father. One way or another, Jay-Jay felt sure that tonight she would lose one of them to the other. She could protect Thorne from the Joker, but Jay-Jay wondered if she could save herself from the wrath of her father if she did.

"Only one way to find out," she whispered to herself, rolling Harvey Two Face's coin over her knuckles. Without really thinking about it, she flipped the coin and caught it in the palm of her hand. Thorne glanced at her, his attention caught by the clear ring of the coin. When he looked into her palm, he saw the outcome and glanced up to catch her expression. She was smiling like the Joker did. The coin had landed scarred side up.


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

"What?" the Joker hissed, glaring savagely. Thorne held Jay-Jay against him tightly, the pistol held firmly against her temple. He remained calm and steady, knowing that if he lost his nerve the Joker would slaughter him brutally for even daring to challenge him.

"Daddy, please, he's gone mad" Jay-Jay pleaded, her voice frightened as she clawed at Thorne's arm, trying desperately to break free of him. Her eyes darted back and forth between him and her father, searching for mercy from at least one of them.

"Shut up Poppet, Daddy's thinking," the Joker spat, his eyes still fixed on Thorne. The Clown Prince hadn't even flinched when he seized his daughter and held a loaded gun to her head. Even now, he seemed more enraged at Thorne's audacity than deciding the fate of his own flesh and blood.

"You heard me," Thorne said coolly, "you can have Batman, he's all yours. But I'll have her blood if I don't have his. So make your choice...laughing man."

The Joker grinned.

"Ha! Poison, just like the venomous bitch who spawned you! I'll cut out your liver for this boy." The Jokers threats didn't rattle Thorne one bit. He knew what he was doing. His calm seemed to upset the Clown Prince momentarily before tickling him to hysterics. As the Joker cackled, he paced dramatically before Thorne, melodramatic gestures accompanying his laughter.

"Thorne, my boy, I like your style," he confessed, wiping a tear from his eye, "how's about we cut a deal, eh? You give me the Batman as planned and release my Poppet unharmed, yes? And I will offer you Nightwing as a sort of...consolidation? Not to mention forgetting this little…_event_. What say you my dear boy?"

Thorne laughed mockingly at the Joker, something the Clown Prince could not tolerate nor hide his fury over. Thorne's grip on Jay-Jay tightened.

"The Batman or nothing, Joker," Thorne repeated. The Joker sneered at him with clenched teeth, seething with anger and hatred. He thought about Joker grenades, dynamite, gasoline and matches, but he could not possibly move Bruce Wayne, Nightwing and get Jay-Jay back all at once and in time. This boy was as tricky as Dent had always been.

"Batman or your daughter, make the choice!" Thorne demanded again, losing patience. The Joker knew how to deal with the likes of Two Face. Furious, he pulled a small blade from his pocket and lunged at Thorne, swiping viciously and leaving a bloody gash over his left eye. Thorne was startled at first, but only at first. Blood running into his eye, he pointed the gun at the Joker and fired, shooting him in the shoulder and knocking the old clown man to the ground in hysterics. He laughed and laughed, kicking his legs about maniacally as he rolled around on the floor. Thorne wiped at his eye with his sleeve, covering it in his own blood before pressing the gun against Jay-Jay's head again and glaring at the madman cackling on the ground before him. Finally, the laughter ebbed away as the Joker climbed to his feet again. He sighed, accepting the lesser defeat.

"Take her if you must," he chimed with a dismissive wave of his hand, "I have what I needed her for now, you're not getting Batman, he's mine!"

Jay-Jay's eyes were wide with shock and hurt. Thorne released his grip on her and turned his gun on the Joker casually, watching as Jay-Jay approached her slightly stunned father.

"Daddy?" she asked, searching his expression. The Joker realised suddenly that he had been fooled. He reached out his hands to Jay-Jay, but she backed away. A flash of pain washed over his expression, but was quickly replaced by a frown. Jay-Jay brushed a tear from her cheek and shook her head sadly.

"Poppet..." the Joker implored, "I knew the Isely boy was just joking, I called his bluff! You know I'd never sacrifice you for anything!"

The Joker reached out his hand to her, but Jay-Jay simply stared at him coldly.

"I won't fall for it too Daddy," she told him, her voice dark and firm, "I won't be your new Harley Quinn. Never thought I'd have to explain that one to you, I guess the joke just ain't funny."

With that, Jay-Jay turned her back on him and disappeared into the darkness of the warehouse where the back exit was. Thorne was expressionless. Still pointing the gun at the Joker, he gestured towards the unconscious body of Bruce Wayne lying on the floor at his feet.

"For what it's worth, I'd never let anything harm her. Not even my own need for vengeance. Some of us have greater destinies than others," he said to the Joker, "I hope yours is worth it, old man."

And with that, Thorne followed after Jay-Jay, leaving the Joker stricken and alone in the dark with the limp body of the Batman.

* * *

The fire alarms had sounded immediately, alerting Tim who had watched in horror from the Cave as Barbara Gordon was knocked to the ground. She had given him strict instructions to remain at his post, no matter what happened in Wayne Manor, the Batcave must never be unmanned at any time. But when he had the explosion followed by fire alarms, he knew he had to save Babs from the flames. Abandoning her wheelchair, Tim had picked her up and thrown her over his shoulder, retreating back into the cave and sealing it off from the blazing mansion above. As Barbara Gordon began to regain consciousness, she was painfully aware of the numbness in her legs. There was a sharp sensation pounding in her back where the bullet had once severed the spinal cord, a perfect shot that had changed her life forever. She was so often grateful that she had a life at all, for only a fraction of difference in the Joker's aim would have placed the bullet in contact with vital organs. But a phantom pain lingered at times, none more so than now. She groaned, grasping at her aching head. Tim swung around in his chair, rolling towards her with a relieved expression.

"Welcome back," he said, placing a cool cloth over her forehead, "how do you feel?"

Babs grinned, recognising her own words to him so many times when she had patched up his injuries or nursed his concussions after battles as Robin.

"Like hell," she replied with a smile, raising herself up on her elbows. There was no time to rest now. She had to find Bruce and Dick. Tim was already on it.

"I found Dick. The Nightwing communicator has a built in signal, I activated it before the Joker broke contact. It's still transmitting from an abandoned warehouse in downtown Gotham," Tim informed her, bringing the map up on her screen for her, "Sin and the Huntress have picked him up and are on their way to a secure location. He's in pretty bad shape. Looks like the Joker just left him there…unusual."

Barbara put on her glasses to inspect the location on her screen. Tim had done well, but this was no time for praise. Besides, Tim was used to his efforts being virtually ignored by Batman, she was sure he'd forgive her for postponing her gratitude.

"Any sign of Bruce or the Joker?" she asked. Tim looked grim.

"There was blood on the floor according to Huntress, lots of blood," he said in a tight voice, "and a box, but no sign of the Joker or Bruce."

There was no expression on her face, Babs simply took in everything Tim told her, thinking. This was her worst nightmare come true, but she couldn't lose it now.

"The Harlequin Box," she whispered, turning suddenly to Tim, "did Huntress sample the blood?" Tim nodded.

"And?" Babs asked impatiently.

"Dick's mostly," he replied quickly, "but she confirmed traces of Bruce too. Enough to suggest that he's wounded bad."

Barbara nodded slowly. She feared in her heart that she would never see Bruce Wayne again. The Joker had once promised the Batman that the Harlequin Box would mark his grave one day, he had casually stated it in his cell at Arkham as Batman himself had placed the box into his withering, white hands. Babs knew that nothing the Joker said was ever in jest.

"Babs! Look at this!" Tim said urgently, tapping some keys so that a window appeared on her screen. It was Gotham's late news. Footage of a building in flames flashed before her eyes, Gotham City Police Department. She hadn't seen such carnage for years. Though it pained her to make the call, she knew what Batman would have done. He alone knew best of all how to deal with the Joker, it was up to Bruce to save himself now. He had left Babs and Tim to keep Gotham safe and that is what she would do. She squeezed her eyes closed, fighting back the tears that had to be kept for later. Opening them again suddenly she turned to Tim.

"I want you to take Sin and Jet into Gotham," she instructed, "sweep the entire city if you have to. We need anything that could lead us to Quinzel and Isely. Anything. Because right now, we know nothing about how they're going to operate. As of now, I'm opening Class A - High Priority criminal files on them both."

With a quick nod, Tim was back at his screen, punching in orders to the Huntress and Black Canary. Soon, Sin and Jet would arrive at the smouldering ruins of Wayne Manor and Tim began to organise the tools they would need. He felt tired as he assembled the high tech gadgets, smoke grenades, batarangs, and communication devices diligently. They weren't going after Bruce and Tim knew Barbara held few hopes that he was even alive. In one final blow, the Joker had won and disappeared, leaving this new terror unleashed upon Gotham. It was all starting again and Tim hoped he still had the heart for it.

* * *

Flames engulfed Gotham City Police Department, billowing like fiery mushroom shaped clouds into the sky. The night was aglow with brilliant orange as the blaze consumed the building, sending sparks flying into the darkness, ebbing away to nothing as they were carried away on the wind. Sirens wailed frantically amidst the panicked citizens of Gotham who fled or gathered to stare. In the midst of the flames, two dark silhouettes appeared like shadows from a nightmare long forgotten.

She looked like a porcelain doll with alabaster flesh. Her blue eyes were painted black with long smeared lines at the corners, her lips painted blue with a single silver tear streaming from each down her pink circle painted cheeks. She had tied tiny purple ribbons into the golden curls that hung in a frame around her face. Draped in bits and pieces of mismatching patterns and colours, she looked like a raggedy clown doll. No longer wishing to be known as 'Joker Junior', Jay-Jay had adopted her father's pet name for herself instead: Poppet, the clown princess, heir of the Joker.

Dressed in crisp white with a black vest and trousers, he glared out at the city before them. A red rose was pinned against his chest pocket and he held a double barrelled shot gun in his left hand. His dark hair shone in the firelight, his green eyes swimming with the venom that coursed through his veins. A deep gash ran over his left eye, remnants of his confrontation with the Joker. Hauntingly beautiful and toxically poisonous, he was at one with his duality at last. He was Thorne Isely Dent.

In her arms, Poppet carried a large bazooka. The Gotham police took aim, demanding that they freeze and drop their weapons. She looked to Thorne, a delirious smile spreading across her face. He returned it, lowering his gun only to gesture for her to have her way with a charming wink. Slowly, Poppet turned her gaze back to them, her smile never wavering. In a single swift motion, she had lifted the bazooka and fired directly at them, a long stream of smoke trailing toward the squad cars before they were obliterated by a deafening blast and flames. Taking aim again, she quickly fired twice more, sending terrified cops and citizens alike scattering for their lives. A few cops began to shoot at them frantically. Thorne dropped his shot gun and pulled two small hand pistols, one from each pocket, and returned fire. Blam! One in the chest. Blam! One in the back. Blam! Blam! Two in the head. It wasn't long before any opposition they faced was silent. Thorne tossed the pistols to the ground and slid his arm around Poppet's waist, pulling her close.

"Feel better?" he asked her. She smiled, her eyes dancing as she nodded.

"Good. Let's go home," he said, touching the tip of her nose playfully. Thorne sunk his fingers into her hair, cradling her head as he pressed his lips against hers, the firelight dancing around them. The sound of sirens grew on the horizon, more cops would be arriving any minute. Picking up the shot gun that had belonged to Harvey Dent, Thorne casually followed Poppet as she skipped and danced to their hidden vehicle, leaving the chaotic inferno and bodies behind them.

**THE END…for now.**


End file.
